Obscurum
by WolfsLegend
Summary: He didn't like those looks… the looks that told him everything. They were curious, judgmental, and somewhat confused. He saw them everywhere he went. Everywhere. They were curious and confused because he resembled the land's favored hero, the Hero of Time; they were judgmental because he looked like the hero overturned. No, he was not their beloved "Link." Far from it in fact.
1. Chapter 1

**This **fan**fiction will contain gore, violence, and moderate use of language. **

**This is a re-uploaded story of a concept I had years ago (Dark Realm). After much consideration and slight progression in writing, I decided to re-write the story.**

**Disclaimers... you get it. **

_Edited as of 5/10/16_ thanks to the help of Beta Readers _LittlePorcelainDoll _and _Nothin'Fancy_.

* * *

_**Obscurum**_

**Chapter 01 – Traveler**

"_You will always be a monster - there is no turning back from it. But what kind of monster you become is entirely up to you."_

― Julie Kagawa, _The Eternity Cure_

* * *

He didn't like those looks… the looks that told him _everything_. They were curious, judgmental, and somewhat confused. He saw them everywhere he went. Everywhere. They were curious and confused because he resembled the land's favored hero, the Hero of Time; they were judgmental because he looked like the hero overturned. It made him sick, to be placed next to the rotten pet of the Goddesses. No, he was not their beloved _Link_. He'd had to reiterate that time and time again and had even gone as far as to drive his begrimed blade through their hearts to get them to understand that one, _simple_ fact.

Yes, he appeared as the Hero, came with every Hero to act as their eternal 'shadow.' One could not live without the other. Of course, he wasn't feeling true distaste to that fact. After his first taste of temporary freedom and having waited for what felt like an eternity for the Hero to stumble into his domain, life could not have felt so… delightful. For after that fateful day, the Hero had felt ashamed. That Hero, that man was so frail and merciful that the very thought of being created in his appearance made the inverted man shudder.

Walking further down the path, he cared little of the blood that dripped from the very folds of his blackened tunic. On the contrary, he embraced the soaked clothes with a smile and open arms. The scent of death that reeked of raw, burnt flesh… that coppery scent… he loved it all. To speak the truth, the sight and smell of blood - even the presence of it - made him feel giddy. It was the medicine to his insanity. An especially delightful medicine when he himself had killed off a single village.

At the mere thought of such a wonderful deed, he glanced over his shoulder at the horizon. Crimson irises - deepest of reds - eyed the quaint village that he had visited just moments before, and a dark twist of his lips formed at the sight of the moonlit mountains. The village denizens, like many before them, had shown him such peace and hospitality to the point where it made him ill.

It made it all the more fun to kill them. Each and every one fell from his blade. Blood spilled across the ground, the floors, painted the village walls. The corpses fell with a sick thud, roses blossoming, their voices dying with the most musical of screams.

The very memory made his heart flutter.

The best part? None of them saw it coming.

_Made it all the more fun._

* * *

He stumbled toward the spring on shaking legs, fingerless gloved hands digging into the fresh water as if his very life depended on it. The magnificent glow of the water clouded at his presence, the surface trembling where his fingers did not touch. He disregarded the sting that bit at his flesh as he gulped handfuls of the rough yet honeyed liquid.

Yet he pulled back, aware that the girl was staring at him. The girl -he couldn't really tell with her baggy attire - whom he had first thought to be a boy, had aided him down the dusty path of Kakariko Village to the spring of Eldin. It was utterly painful for him; to not turn on her and slit her delicate throat. Helping him? Dear Goddesses, he felt so pathetic. Then again, he should have rationed his water better. Nevertheless, he kept up the act that he had shown her when she stumbled upon him like he had stumbled toward the water: an innocent and overwhelmed traveler who was far from home and in dire need of nourishment.

The girl looked on, black hair covered in the dust the wind kicked up with a fiery passion. "Are you okay now, mister?" Her speech was deep and slow, irritating him, but he withheld the annoyance with a second's breath of a smile.

_Trick them with innocence__,_ his thoughts encouraged, making his smile more evident as he leaned back on his heels. Yes, trick them.

"I'm fine th-thank you," he nodded tiredly, his voice still ragged with dryness and exhaustion. To add to the matter he allowed his smile to falter some, even brushed a hand across his forehead.

She seemed pleased yet worried at the reply. "That's good," she gave a soft nod, black hair bouncing. "Wait here and I'll go fetch father. He's the _medium_ here. He might be able to heal your wounds - if any- and find you a momentary place to stay." The girl smiled hopefully before darting off to the nearest hut, leaving the man with the crimson eyes and dusky hair to wait next to the bubbling spring.

Yet as she disappeared within the hut, he stood and walked toward that very shelter. The thought of eavesdropping gave him an odd thrill, but nothing like the thrill of spilling blood.

"Father! Father!" The blessing of sensitive hearing made him wince as he took a few steps away from the hut's door.

A sharp rustling resounded in response, a groggy voice sounding far from irritated at possibly be awoken. "What is it dear child?" A masculine voice reverberated, a thumping of feet sounding at the last word.

"We've a visitor, father."

"A visitor? Why are you so frantic over a visitor?"

"He-He's different. He looks really scary, but… but he-he needs a place to stay. You said yourself that hospitality is what we're known for, right?"

"Yes, no matter how scary they may seem. You didn't fall to rudeness and question him of his origin, did you?"

"No, of course not!" The voice was growing nearer to the door. At this fact, the red-eyed man retreated back to his seat near the spring just in time.

The hut's door opened and a man sluggishly stumbled out like a sleep deprived fellow as he ran a hand as dusty and dark as the sand beneath their feet through a long braid of tangled hair. Right upon seeing the man, the traveller grew tense. A shaman. This could be tricky. Of course knowing that the tired father was a shaman did not make him tense up, no, it was the way that he was eyed. The shaman gave him a look of momentary horror.

Perhaps it was the appearance to begin with since it seemed that red eyes always did scare those about him. Then again, it could be his stunning resemblance to a certain, pathetic _Hero_. Either way, he found himself smiling sweetly in return and stood up once again.

"Welcome to Kakariko Village," the shaman bowed as his daughter darted up to do the same. "I am Renado, the shaman here," he rose and waved an absent hand behind him to the rest of the village. "May I offer you our hospitality? You look weary from your travels."

The red-eyed man allowed his smile to gain a syrupy length and nodded. "Yes, I am rather fatigued and quite famished. Not only that, but the heat is getting to me. Odd, the fields are not as hot as it is here," he sighed, running a hand across his forehead once more.

"That is because Death Mountain, home of the Gorons, neighbors us," Renado explained, and the man nodded once more, internally rolling his eyes. Yes, of course he knew that. Any imbecile would know that.

_Play dumb. Trick them with innocence. _"Yes, well… about the hospitality you mentioned?" he asked.

Renado shifted uneasily. Though his unsteady gaze from earlier had gone, the man could tell that the shaman was still entirely unsure of him. As he should be. "How long do you intend to stay?"

"A day or two, enough to where I am fully rested and able to continue travelling without any exertion."

"All right then," Renado finally displayed a smile as he turned to his daughter, his long tunic brushing the sand. "Luda, preparations." The little girl at his side nodded darted off into the village without another word. "My daughter will find you a room within the Elde Inn. You may stay as long as you like. Oh, but…" the shaman paused, bowing his head slightly again, "I do not believe I got your name, traveler?"

The man's smile faltered slightly as the voices that resounded in his head giggled manically. It was clear that the shaman did not trust him. It didn't take a blind man to take note to that. Perfect. Oh, but he had been questioned. Name. Names. Titles. A word. "Link."

It took all he had not to giggle, especially when the shaman's eyes narrowed. "L-Link?"

"Yes, is my name a problem?"

"No, of course not mister…"

"Link."

Renado eyed him further, but after a silent moment he turned his gaze up and away. "Yes, quite right… Link," he seemed to detest speaking the name as if it bit at his insides. "My daughter is preparing a room as we speak. Tonight it shall be ready for you, so for now please become acquainted with our village."

Again the shaman bowed, turning once more in his long tunic, and returning to the safe confines of his hut. Of course, if he had stayed a moment longer and glanced at the traveler who deemed himself as 'Link,' then he would have caught sight of that ominous grin that took over his honest smile. If only Renado had listened to his wariness of the man's very name, presence, and appearance. If only he had listened to the whispers that assaulted his conscience right at the traveler's voice. _If only…_

_Far too easy. These fools trust in people too much for peace. Let's destroy it. Help them bathe in their blood._ That wicked leer grew, gaining a dark gravity. Ah, he loved the voices that ran amok within his head. Delightful.

The air tasted foul. Perhaps it was the dust that had taken refuge within his throat or the fact that there was not a drop of blood to be seen. Of course, the thought occurred to him to spill his own, but it would not be the same. No, he needed to find wonderment in spilling another's lifeblood. To see their expression, their crumbling future flash before their eyes, and to watch as they squirmed, screamed, and cried out with their dying breath.

His very addiction was entirely unhealthy. At the very acceptance of that fact, his fingers curled tighter against the hilt of his sword. Yes, he knew… he knew it all too well. The thirst for something so red and so precious was not natural, even for a shadow, but something drew him to it. Perhaps it was the fact that he himself could not bleed, not naturally. No, he would only bleed if the Hero bled. He would only feel pain if the Hero felt pain.

A reflection, nothing but a reflection.

He withdrew from the thoughts, determined to trap them in the back of his mind. Now was not a time to feel pity or a sense of pathetic longing. Shadows could not feel after all, or so the damned Goddesses insisted.

"Enough indulging yourself, _Link__,_" the dark haired man giggled at his own name, finding it foreign when placed against him. As he spoke to himself, he stroked the double-edged blade in such a manner that one would question if the inanimate object was indeed a living, breathing thing in need of affection.

* * *

Within the confines of Elde Inn, Renado and a bulky mass of a creature - Cor Goron of the Gorons - leaned over the bar counter. The Goron's muscles bulged over the flimsy stand, the weight making the very wood creak beneath. Unlike the pasty flesh of man, his skin had the appearance of dirt but looked just as strong and sturdy as any rock. He was quite intimidating, to say the least. Even the smell of burnt wood and sulfur from his body was just as intimidating to the point of making one nauseous.

"Link?" he spoke in a rough, grinding accent to the point where the slur of the vowel made the spoken word sound like '_Lounk.'_ "Well, the strange brother does look like the Hero, indeed, but he varies in color. Especially in the eyes."

Renado nodded and took a seat on a barstool across from the creature that towered over him to the point where the shaman had to crane his neck to meet the gentle eyes of his Goron friend.

"Yes, I agree with you there, my friend. The presence he holds is somewhat…" he trailed, a hand running under his chin. What was the word to best describe the newcomer's aura? Sinister, dark, foreboding… "Either way, I didn't question him about the reasoning behind his name. I'm sure many children have been named after Hyrule's Hero, but the resemblance is almost frightening."

"But you do not wish to judge the weary man?"

"No, it would be wrong of me to judge him when I know nothing about him."

As the Goron shifted in his seat the counter groaned in protest. "What of Eldin, have you heard from him when the traveler came about?"

Eldin was the guardian of the spring within Kakariko Village. It was the light of the province that both Kakariko Village and Death Mountain inhabited. It wasn't common, but on occasion Renado would hear whispers from the light spirit. It was his task as the village's shaman to hear and reiterate the words of Eldin and his siblings, the other three light spirits that guarded the other regions of Hyrule. At the mention of the light spirit, Renado shook his head reluctantly. "No, I've just felt premonitions ever since I said 'good day' to him."

"What if he's not from Hyrule?"

"That's possible, but the mountains that surround Hyrule are far too tall and far too steep for such a journey."

"But if this traveler is like the Hero then it would be a simple task."

"It's possible, but I doubt it."

"Maybe it's just a coincidence then. Stop worrying if Eldin spoke nothing of it. Now come, let us return to our previous talk about the matters of a feast between our people," Cor Goron grinned.

* * *

Link found comfort wallowing in the worn sheets that reeked of dust and earth. His eyes resembled hollow pits in the candlelight as he peered into the shadows of the room. Elde Inn's rooms were quite small and his was no exception. It held enough room for a bed, but the lack of space did not unsettle him. Small, dark places were something he found comfort in, as was his blade that rested at his side.

It was rather difficult to hide his sinister thoughts and revealing his hand for all to see. No, he had to wait for the perfect time. Spilling blood haphazardly wasn't nearly as thrilling. It didn't bring that dark glow to his eyes, the glint in his blade, or the smile on his lips.

Link idly glanced down at the bright mirror edge of his blade, pleased in his reflection. There was something about the gleam of his wicked blade that seemed to bring out the most beautiful angles of his face. In fact, no other reflective surface did his features justice and he often spent hours looking into his sword for that sickening satisfaction. His enjoyment was interrupted prematurely when a hesitant knock on the door tore his eyes away.

The inverted man rose into a sitting position, his shirt sliding down his thin shoulders. He stared at the door and hoped ignoring the nuisance would encourage it to go away, but against his wishes, the visitor opened the door and stepped in. The girl from before hesitantly made her way into the room, her face sporting a boyish grin. She nervous as she played with her hands before stating her business.

"You've been cooped up in here all day. Is there anything else I can do for you?" Luda questioned as she brushed a wary hand through her hair. Link mentally groaned, but instead of voicing his thoughts - a couple of which included slitting her throat and gouging out her eyes - he smiled.

He watched as the girl cringed at the smile he used when parting flesh from skin. He could practically see her comparing him to his _other_ half, as most did when he expressed his emotions. None of them ever wanting to acknowledge the similarities in the two men.

Luda cringed; the candlelight was not doing the traveler's smile any favors. Then again… perhaps she'd simply misjudged his sharp smile in the candlelight. She had to admit it was hard to reconcile the smile of the man before her with the Legend who shared the same name in the twisting shadows. "Sir is there - "

"I heard you the first time, child," Link smiled, his tone teetering away bit by bit. "And no, I'm afraid not, but thank you. I think I'll just rest." He had meant to wave her off then like one would a servant, but instead he drew himself away from the comfort of the bed. "What time is it, _dear child_?" It was difficult keeping the mirth away from his voice, his senses yearning for blood for Goddess knows how long.

The girl was perplexed. Of all the things for the blood-eyed man to inquire, he wondered over time itself? Luda shrugged off the confusion, glancing slightly over her shoulder to peer out a window from across the inn's hall . The hour was indeed late. Returning her reluctant gaze to the man, "Why, sir, it's past sunset."

_Clearly._ Link had gathered that much already having absentmindedly counted the seconds, the minutes, and each seemingly endless _hour_ since he had settled into his temporary room. "Is it midnight?"

Again, she glanced over her shoulder. "It appears so but I cannot tell… " Luda said, raising a curious brow.

He could tell she wanted to question him, that much was clear, but thankfully she kept her questions to herself. WIth a brisk bow of her head, she murmured a parting "good night," and left just as abruptly as she appeared.

At her absence, yet another smile split Link's face, growing tenfold to that of a madman's sneer. He'd almost lost it at the very idea of it being midnight. It would be the perfect time to wreak havoc, and this time he would gain attention from the Goddesses.

The sick pleasure of listening to another's screams motivated him out of the bed as if the very sheets burned him. As soon as his bare feet brushed the dusty floor, he dove for his obsidian blade. His movements were slow and measured as he picked up the sword delicately, cradling it within his arms as he all but beamed back at his reflection.

"It's almost time," his breath fogged against the cool steel, "to see the flesh part under your lovely edge..."

_Simply wonderful. Deli-_

His eyes snapped to the door as a sudden sound disturbed his thoughts. Shattering glass… no, not entirely, but something just as fragile. The very sound of it made him cringe. Whoever that made such a dreadful sound would surely be the _first_ to bleed.

Link stalked out the door, annoyance coating his stride. The hall's dim light did little to hide the wicked curl of his smile. He turned the corner, following the low mutter of someone's voice as another shatter of _something_ and - Goddess be damned - it unnerved him. With silent haste - as much as one could on the old, squeaking wood - he descended the stairs, turning just in time to watch a plate fall from a cabinet behind inn's bar.

The one to create such a disgusting noise, an Elde Inn maid, moved in such a way that it brought out her fragile age. She groaned as her back stiffened at the slightest gesture of bending down to pick up the shattered pieces of plates that had fallen from the cupboard overhead.

"Watch y'self, ole girl," she tsked, coming back up with a series of pops resounding from her spine. "Don't want' go at breaking the last good lookin' plate."

Her drawl reminded Link of a cat rubbed against a cactus; elongating the vowels and cutting the words short in such a manner that it irritated him to no end, making his fingers curl even tighter about the blade at his hip. He waited until she picked up every last plate with the speed of a snail; her old bones creaking with each bend.

Link rested against the banister, eying the elderly maid across the bar counter with a look that spoke of pure malice. Consideration was something foreign to him; his conscience having died a long time ago with his innocence. Already he scanned the room, his mind flicking through a series of thoughts illustrating the woman's demise. There were so many ways to kill a soul, so many ways... yet he could only end them once. It was sad, really.

_Enough, it should be simple. Just slaughter her, paint the floors in __her_ _blood and be done with it. Even if she wakes the whole village, it will do them no good._

He'd been so enraptured in the very idea, he hadn't realized that the old woman had stopped cleaning up. Without his notice, she had somehow crossed the expanse of the room.

"Sorry, Sir," she drawled wearily with a bow. The very gesture made the wooden headpiece that held her hair in an unceremonious bun wobble precariously."Did I wake y'eh?"

The man eyed her for a moment, knowing that his twisted smile was still visible. Was she too blind to see it or perhaps too stupid? Then again, perhaps she saw his twisted smile as something kind? He glanced about them, the only source of light being the candle at the bar. Ah, perhaps she couldn't see his features entirely.

_Wonderful._

He forced a kindhearted laugh and winced, its effect somewhat diminished. "Oh, not at all. In all honesty, I couldn't really sleep and… well…"

The maid nodded, laughing in return. "I'm sorry t' hear tha'. I wish I could help y'eh." She turned her back to him, inviting him to introduce her to his blade. As the thought tickled his fancy, she moved behind bar.

"Do you need any help?" Link questioned. He walked across the room to the maid's vicinity, fingers curling even tighter about the hilt.

She didn't look at him, didn't catch the lilt in his voice. "I've been doin' the dishes since noon. Puttin' them up is a hassle." She said. She got on her tiptoes to place a trembling stack of plates back into a dusty cabinet.

He went around the counters and helped her. In truth, he didn't want to hear the shattering again. "Are you the only servant here?" He inquired, giving the maid room right as she turned to shake his hand out of thanks.

Her hand hovered, but when he showed no notion to take her palm, she let up and straightened her posture. At his closeness, she could see the unhealthiness lingering on his skin, and the red in his eyes was almost horrific. Was he sick? Most likely, but she wouldn't dare embarrass the him by asking. "No, the other maids are young and always whine tha' the night duties are far t' difficult. I usually end up doin' all the nightly chores m'self." She answered.

"You're alone then?" Link raised his head slightly, fingers once again curled on the hilt.

"Yes, why? Do y' need somethin', Sir?"

An innocent step forward, "No, not really," another step, "Well, there is something."

With each progressive step, the maid backed up until her back pressed against the counters. "W-What may that be?" She's caught onto something, something entirely off, unnatural. She hadn't noticed it before, the way the candle light made him look like death itself or the way his insistent smile curled maliciously.

He brought the blade to her throat, eyes narrowed, "I want to know what kind of screams you'll make when I slit your throat." His voice filled with such innocence, such curiosity that the woman shuddered.

The sword came down and she screamed. Hands clawed at Link's arms as the blade sliced through flesh. It dug past the collarbone and found a spot to claim as home. The point drove through the ribcage. Cold steel froze everything it touched as it plowed through, and the edge gouged the heart. Her screams, sharp and grave, died with a gurgle and a squelch of her skewered organ. The blood ran, hot and fresh, and stained everything: the floor, the maid's uniform, his clothes, and the blade itself.

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**Reviews, positive and negative, are always welcome!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Edited 6/7/16**

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**Chapter 02 – Bloodstains**

Music Suggestion: Fatal Lullaby by Adrian Von Zielger

"_Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it."_

― Terry Pratchett, _Reaper Man_

* * *

The shaman, Renado, heard it first. It was a scream that could make a Goron cringe, make fresh blood turn cold. He did not just hear it, no… he _felt _it. It felt like a cold, depressive darkness and it smothered every bit of hope that he held, and at that moment the light spirit, Eldin, spoke. The spirit whispered manically, screamed its heart out within his own mind.

"_The Darkness, the darkness, oh the darkness! Run for thy soul for once it sets its sight, there is nothing… _nothing _to stop it. Encroaching, noisome darkness. It will end everyone and every_thing_. Paint the dirt with blood. Not even _light… _not even _light…"

The spirit's mad speech didn't make him any less afraid as he searched the village pathways for his daughter, knowing that she, as well as the rest of the villagers, had heard it. Yet as he pushed his way through the forming masses toward Elde Inn in a desperate search, did the doors of that very inn open.

The silence was deafening as all frantic eyes focused on the figure as it stalked out of the inn with the stride of a cat. Ruby eyes glowed as Link, with blood coated on his features, laughed ominously. In his hand he held a blade and in the other, a head. To the crowd, the first victim was a wonder. Who was it? They couldn't tell. It was hard to even recognize a feature on the head with the endless amount of gore that dripped from the neck.

"How dare you!" a Goron roared against the tragic silence, its voice made the ground beneath it shake. The denizens around it shuddered at the sudden interruption as it stalked toward the inn's ramp. With another roar it charged, rock arms flexed out before it, as it set to ram Link down with a simple blow.

He swung his beloved sword, its very touch brought a swarm of sparks as it grazed the skin of the Goron and then found a place to settle. Red blood appeared, at first too small to catch, but then it came as a waterfall. Then the wail of a Goron came. It was a cry that was rare to the ears. It was something sorrowful, soul wrenching, and _scary_. Something unnatural and bitterly sweet should not be reverberated by a man of rock, yet it came like the wind to echo against the dusty huts of Kakariko.

At the cry of the Goron, the denizens of Kakariko scattered like cockroaches in light. They ran, screaming and crying. They left those that stumbled to fall by Link's blade. Surely, if the cry of a Goron had not been heard then they would have stayed, insisted on seizing the murderer… something _courageous_.

Link walked steadily from the rampart, raised his blade with a flick of the wrist. Just as before, the blade settled in and tore. It cut through the rock as if the tough flesh was tissue paper. He moved like a ghost, wandered without any true desire or destination. Wherever a Kakariko fled to, he followed nonchalantly, his face taking on an expression of a disinterested child. The finesse of the blade made it appear as if he had done it a thousand times over, but with each swing, his thoughts muddled with bliss as his twisted conscience withered further.

Of course he found some humanity still bubbled inside, though weak, and it bothered him to the point that he paused at the moment where his blade rose to cut through a mother and child.

_They did nothing. They are simple-minded. They are innocent. You are in the wrong. You should-_

**S**_**hhhh**_**lick**

He drew the blade back, eyes looked over the blood that spilled from the child. If his thoughts were not so focused on what was happening around him, then he would have laughed at the petite voice that tried desperately to grab his attention. It had the _gall_ to make him feel guilty, of all things!

_They are selfish. They judge. They're disgusting. They are dirty. They are just as dark as I._

* * *

The shaman's daughter, Luda, ran with desperation, having escaped the black blade twice already. Her clothes were splattered with blood; her face burned from the hot substance. One of her best friends, who she'd followed closely behind, had been cut down right in front of her. It had happened so quickly yet time seemed to slow, and in that instance she'd seen the traveler turn, caught the look in his eyes as he recognized her, and saw his sword shift.

She'd slipped in the blood, stumbled over her friend's body, and had kept running. The guilt was suffocating. However, her mind bargained with her, reassured her that her friend's wound had been fatal. There had been nothing left to do except to _run._

Luda slipped again but this time over soft dirt in the village's cemetery. The feeling was relief at first. Her ancestors, Eldin even, would surely protect her. However, when she heard the dying screams of her friends, her relief deteriorated.

The cemetery was as silent as ever, cold and eerie as she raced amidst weathered headstones. There was no help waiting for her here. Fear brought her to take refuge behind a forgotten headstone that stood far off to the side of the cemetery. Her fingers curled into the dry earth as her gaze wandered. Maybe if she prayed hard enough then Eldin would save her, would shroud her in light and protect her. The idea was much better than allowing herself to drown in fear. Perhaps… her heart stopped, ached terribly in her chest as if someone had impaled her, and she grasped at her chest with a tight fist. A single scream erupted and ascended over the chaos, and the scream itself drew her into a slobbering mess. Even if she had never heard it in her life, she knew.

_Father._

* * *

Sword brushed against stone, the contact brought forth a shower of sparks, and the blade indulged itself in the crook of the Goron's neck. The man of rock reverberated with the sound of thunder as its fingers laced around the blade. Yet the sword was too quick for the Goron as it dug deeper and deeper, its dangerous edge caressing the collarbone. The Goron fell to the dusty ground, the earth shaking in response, and withdrew its fingers from the sharp edges only to wrap them around Link's ankle. When Link pulled the blade out and elicited a ground hiss from the Goron, his vigorous gaze searched for his next victim. A sudden amount of pressure against his ankle forced his attention back to the Goron and with a snarl and a flick of the wrist, the sword sliced at the man's throat.

The sharp edges tore through the Goron's rocky flesh and split the jugular vein. With every death, Link would pause to watch the gore and the last moments of his victims. It was something that he found fascinating, to watch life wither away into death. However, he didn't stay to watch the color in the Goron's eyes flicker like a candle and then evaporate into a cloud of black, but he did watch a familiar shaman run past him and the gore that oozed out of the Goron.

At the sight of the man, Renado, Link tightened his hold on the hilt. He _judged._ The words resonated with malice, repeated over and over in his mind until they became a mantra. The way that the shaman had spoken his name, the way he had looked at him, and the way he had _judged _encouraged Link's instability.

_He will _die_._

Renado didn't see it coming. He was far too focused in searching for his daughter. Dear Eldin, he was frantic. He paced, unsure of where to look for her, but he knew that if he stayed in one place then he would be slain just as the others. Yet he was so fueled with worry that his thoughts never truly came. No, all he could think was of Luda's safety. He had promised her mother. He had promised…

"_I won't be there to see her grow up Renado." Her voice was weak and tired as her hand clung limply to his own, the soft and warm skin felt rough and cold to the touch._

He called her name again, hopelessness made his voice crack.

"_I won't be there to help her." She coughed and struggled for words._

A bone-chilling cold crowded around him as he continued his search. It seeped into his body and made his skin crawl with premonitions; nevertheless, he persisted and ignored the descending atmosphere that pressed at his back. He had promised.

"_Promise me that you will always be there for her. No matter what. Promise me that you will-"_

The point of a blade jabbed at his back, scraped at his spine before it impaled him between his left shoulder blade and spine. Its movement was slow at first, gentle, or maybe that was just time itself slowing down right at death. The pain didn't hit until he heard the blood-curdling laughter, felt the hot breath against his flesh.

"_Always protect her."_

"Good night," a voice whispered by his ear as the blade was harshly withdrawn. At its withdrawal he felt the pain, the void. It was something dreadful, something missing.

_He tightened his hold on her hand in clear desperation. "Don't say that, please. You will make it. I will make sure of that. Eldin will surely listen to me this time."_

His hands brushed over his robe until his fingers met the gaping wound left in his chest. For a moment, he stood in absolute shock, but when the blood soaked into his clothes and formed a puddle at his feet, he fell forward. As he fell, he turned his head just enough to catch sight of his killer. Red eyes and a wicked smile met him and filled him with regret. He should have followed his gut feeling.

Link watched the shaman for a moment, even sat beside him to see how fleeting life would be for him. Yet boredom drew Link back on his feet. His interest wavered. Didn't the shaman have a daughter? He scanned the destruction and pandemonium he had caused and he smiled inwardly, but he didn't catch the girl. Nonetheless, his gaze paused on a path that wrapped around the shaman's hut and up a steep hill that he had not taken yet.

The path would lead to the only place that Renado had not looked for…

The only place…

_He held the infant in his arms, a smile on his lips even after having dealt with such a tragedy. "I will call you…" he paused and tickled the infant's chin as it played with his braids, "Luda, after your mother."_

_Luda._

* * *

Luda peeked over the headstone with bated breath only to duck her head back down at the sight of her friends' and father's murderer. Even from here she could spot those red eyes. They glowed brighter than the moon. Her heart hammered against her chest as she pressed herself closer to the headstone. She tried to make herself smaller and pulled her legs tightly against her, but nothing happened and the minutes ticked by. Despite her fear, she glanced around the stone and saw an empty cemetery. Relief washed over her for a second time, but when she turned, she was met with darkness.

Luda looked up, breath caught in her throat. The moon's light had died away, dulled by a shadow accented with crimson. The stench of gore was suffocating but manageable, but the look in those eyes ripped her stomach asunder. Link looked down on her like she was prey.

He crouched down until he was eye level, and she flinched back as his eyes met hers evenly. "You're the last." He smiled and leaned forward as he stabbed his sword into the earth beside her.

* * *

On the third day, Kakariko's death was discovered by a passing merchant. The blood was so much to where it tainted and overflowed Eldin's spring. Corpses were strewn about like trash, slammed against walls or rock, and there were a few that were too cut up to be recognizable. The scene was so grotesque and tragic that it reached Hyrule's Castletown in a heartbeat.

**Kakariko Massacre!**

**Date 22-342-1111**

**Kakariko village is closed off to the public due to a tragic event. On the 341****st** **the village was found covered in blood and corpses.**

"**I couldn't believe it," said soldier Bransen of the 22****nd** **Royal Hyrule Armada, "when I was called in to clean up a 'mess,' I had no idea that it was something like this. I've never seen so much death. I'll never be able to get the scene out of my head."**

**Currently, no survivors have been found and there has been no evidence as to the identity of the murderer. Current death count is unknown. The list of the dead will be provided next week. A mass funeral has yet to be set.**

* * *

She read it over and over, the devastating news that had made its home in the hearts of her people. It was unnerving, painful. She felt that it was her fault even though she had known nothing of it. She was tightened her fingers on the parchment remorsefully. Brown eyes trembled, turned glassy from tears that threatened to fall. Already her cheeks were puffy, and amber strands of hair plastered to her warmed cheeks.

_Stay strong. Stay strong. Stay strong._ She took a deep breath, dropped the bringer-of-bad-news and brushed hastily at her long braids and cheeks. She blinked away the tears and stood abruptly from her writing desk.

"Milady," she flinched, unaware that one of the servants had slipped into her chamber unannounced. Yet as she turned, white gown twirled at her knees, ready to scold the servant did she stop in mid-turn.

"Link," her eyes widened at the speaker.

The boy, no, the man smiled, "Sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you. I wanted to surprise you. Is now a bad time? You look distraught... is your father fairing well?" Link tilted his head and his deep, blue eyes filled with concern.

She took a moment to reply, the emotions that the news had triggered hadn't settled down. Instead, she let her eyes roam. He was in casual clothes rather than his soldier armor and it reminded her of how he had declined the offer to stay in the castle so many years ago. She wanted to tell him that the clothes made him look younger, but withdrew as that wasn't entirely true. No, he was more muscular and tanned. His face was filled out more and his voice was deeper, stronger.

"Zel?"

He seemed ignorant about the massacre otherwise he would have acted quiet, angry, uncomfortable. He would have said how he should have done something about it because he was Hyrule's chosen Hero. He'd said it before when something terrible had happened within Hyrule. Of course, since he lived in the secluded outskirts of Faron, it was likely that he wouldn't hear of such tragic news.

"It's nothing. Just feeling a little stressed from my duties as of late. Nothing new," Zelda smiled with finality, and gave him a look that told him to not press the issue, "Now, what brings you here?"

"Even though I'm no longer affiliated with Ordon, I promised Rusl that I'd continue the job of giving the Royal Family Ordon's blessing." As he spoke, he turned to his side and withdrew a sheath embezzled with faux jewels. The sheath itself was impressive with its intricate detail of thread that retold the story of the Triforce and the Hero, but the blade would surely outshine it. Each blade, every year, was more amazing to look at than the one before it. It shimmered even in darkness and sung beautifully when it cut wind.

"How nice."

* * *

**Luda's mother is not known in Twilight Princess.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Edited 6/7/16**

* * *

**Chapter 03 - Trust**

Music Suggestion: Forsaken by Sharm

"_This fall I think you're riding for—it's a special kind of fall, a horrible kind. The man falling isn't permitted to feel or hear himself hit bottom. He just keeps falling and falling. . ."_

― J.D. Salinger, _The Catcher in the Rye_

* * *

_How many days had it been since he had seen the sun? How many days had it been since he had seen another living being? The questions bombarded him, made his skin crawl with sick realization. He hadn't seen the sun in _months _and as for a living being… nothing but the shadows. It had bothered him, but the silence and the loneliness had long since been a hindrance. _

_At first, he had feared the emptiness that the spacious chamber offered, but now he saw it as something natural. To him, the shadows meant safety even if the depths of the shadows gnawed at his sanity. __Nevertheless, ever since his first day in the darkness, he did not scream. He did not claw at the walls, throw himself against the walls like a caged animal, and he did not cry. Instead he waited for what felt like eternity for something, anything to rouse him from the solitude. Yet here he was, accustomed to a void, imprisoned, starved, and at the mercy of his captor—creator. It would be up to that vile being's decision on if his sanity would be allowed to wander again._

_Of course, he didn't expect it so soon,_ _the interruption of his darkness that he'd grown accustomed too__. He had heard the footfalls many times before, but the heavy lock and the sudden crack of light—something like boiling, hot fire to his eyes—caught him by surprise. It was almost horrifying. The opened door and the burning light that it brought in was so unexpected that he had almost cried out in desperation._

"_Get the boy, master will want to see how his mind has progressed," a voice __broke the silence, resounding_ _like a drum that wreaked havoc on his ears. __A scaley hand coiled around his arm and pulled him upward, the force almost dislocated his shoulder from its socket,_ "_If not then perhaps we will have some fun." __Noisome laughter flooded the chamber and for once, he found that he favored the darkness and its solitude._

* * *

The dark man, Link, stood up with such ferocity that he almost startled the frogs that sang around him in the cavern. As he rose, crimson eyes alight, did his expression turn to utter disgust. The change from something of comfort to repulsion wasn't from the blood that still soaked his clothes, but more from the dreams that had littered his conscience. They were a nuisance. Not because the child in the dream was weak and defenseless, not because he felt sorry for the child, but because it happened and as it happened no one gave a damn.

Yet as he mulled over the dreams and mentally raged at the boy's lonely predicament, did the glassy pond that surrounded him begin to ripple. The disturbances in the pond moved as gently as the wind and brought on a kaleidoscope of colors to envelope the waters. His eyes blinked in confusion as he watched the swirl of colors come alive with each ripple that passed him. They spiraled and grew in intensity before they reached the center of the pond. When all splashes of color met, a burst of light shot from the waters. It was something golden and true, a painful sight to his dark eyes as he turned halfheartedly away from its brilliance to peer at the path that had led him down to the cavern.

"_You are weary, traveler. Let me heal your wounds."_ Link stifled a laugh at the melodical voice that reverberated from the pillar of light. It had confused the blood with his own. Without a pause and without his willingness, a tickle and pull covered his flesh, something that he recognized as magic cloaked him.

He gave a squinted glance to the golden pillar. Partially enveloped in the brilliance, he spotted a swarm of small fairies that idly danced around the light. Thank Din it wasn't the Great Fairy, _she_ could read a man's aura and stop his heart, but the smaller, lesser Fountain Fairies could not. They healed anyone that came to them, no matter the mindset or heart of the traveller.

Link hadn't ventured down into the depths of the fountain for relief of his exhaustion. He had merely sought shelter from the outside world. After the discovery of a decimated Kakariko, three days ago, Link had been in search of solitude and a place to clean his clothes of evidence. Of course, now that solitude was disturbed.

"_There, traveler, now you may rest in peace."_

His red eyes twitched, turned fully to glare at the light that continued to float and pulse in intensity. "Yes, yes, thank you," he flinched at his voice, listened to it echo against the cavern walls.

"_Are you in need of assistance, repairs, or something of the sort to help you along your journey?"_

"No."

"_Are you sure traveler, it will—"_

"No."

"_What abo…"_

His red eyes twitched again with frustration as his hand circled the hilt of his sword. With a heavy step, he made his way to the center of the pond, the light not straying even as he lifted his sword. "Shut up," he spoke as his begrimed blade cut through the mass of light. Instantly, the light died and along with it came a chorus of wretched whispers that made the cavern about it tremble, but the light didn't go away entirely as the voices writhed. Like a candle, its center, where the blade touched the light, caught on fire. The fire engulfed the magnificent light, its flames drowned out the cries of the burnt fairies, and then it burned away all at once. It left nothing but trembled waves in its wake.

If only the Fountain Fairies could have read his aura, his heart. If not that, perhaps noticed how his sword seemed to hold a heavy atmosphere about it or how his blackened tunic dripped with blood that was not his own. Maybe then they would have noticed how those red eyes drowned in darkness.

Pale fingers tangled into the stained tunic of black, red eyes glared with such hatred that one would think the man was angry at the shirt itself. Yet as he continued to let the blood taint the Fairy Fountain, he found himself growing even more tired. Of course, it wasn't just that that made Link scowl in such a childish manner, it was the emotion that welled up within him.

_It wasn't his._

This occurred every blue moon, where a piece of his old self would _bleed _through at the most wondrous of moments. It was usually guilt that poked its selfish way through—something that had been his long ago but no longer. Guilt, he hadn't felt that since… since…

He muttered something incoherently as he let the shirt fall to the shallow depths of the fountain. Truth be told, Link had believed he'd buried that side of him to the point of eternal death. Guilt was something he could not deal with, not now and not ever. It brought him down, tore him apart, and made his very being drown in agony. It was living hell for him, to feel regret.

"Why should I," he spat, nails clawed into the wet material as he again snatched it away from the waters, "when they judged me just like the rest." The very words were becoming something like a chant. Villagers _had_ judged him, in the past. Yes, the shaman had spoken his name in an odd manner and had even looked him over with suspicion, but there had been no judgment. The whole response to his form was caution as well as curiosity. A traveler who resembled the hero… a rarity. Kakariko Village was a little child compared to the first village he had…

Link closed his eyes, shook his head. Memories were a burden.

* * *

_It had been a simple promise, one that the frail child was all the more eager to follow. _"Do me a favor and I might let you out of the darkness." _Those words had been his bit of hope, the voice something like a savior. Without question, he'd followed _his _master's two minions with desperation and his thin arms carried the rapier that he had been given with the utmost care._

_The destination was unknown, the favor behind those words was unknown, but the child simply followed and trusted. He hoped the task would be easy, having been so tired and __having yet to recover_ _from a punishment when things had _not gone correctly as planned_. Even then, he felt weakness eat away at his being as he struggled to keep up with the minions. Unlike him, they looked properly fed, healthy, and unharmed._

_Without warning, a hand grabbed him by the shoulder, hard. He gave a pained hiss at the feel of cold fingers that dug into his collarbone as he was forced to look up at his captor. One of the minions, a green goblin __with hollow pits for eyes_ _leered down in such a way that it gave the child a bit of a trembled fit. "Now listen here and listen well, brat. Master is trying to be generous to you so I suggest you do as he ordered of you," __its voice resonated like a pile of rattled bones and __with its other, free hand it gestured to the path before them. Far ahead a cluster of lights—fire—came to view, structures could be faintly seen from underneath the moon's caring glow, and if he listened closely… voices of civilization could be heard. A village. It looked small, even at a distance._

"_W-What am I—"_

"_We didn't ask you to speak," the second minion, a hog-like man creature growled. In turn, the child flinched, eyes fell away from the speck of society._

"_Master wants you to purge the village."_

_Purge? He nearly threw up. The child didn't have to guess, the tone and the expression that the two wore __gave enough definition to the word for him__. Purge meant something diabolical, unforgivable._

"_Every single one. If you don't, you'll be kept in the darkness forever and may even receive more fun, little punishments. If you fail, same thing. If one escapes, same deal."_

_It was sickening how the child froze at the very mention of the darkness. The dark chamber that he had been stuck in for goddess knows how long. He barely even heard the rest of the threat, the order. Even when they released him, led him to the village entrance, and left him did the threat still ring loud and clear. If he didn't "purge" then he'd be left in the darkness. If he didn't "purge" then he'd receive those painful punishments. If he didn't "purge" then he'd… dear Din. __Even if he had only gotten to look at the sun before it settled for the day, even if his freedom was momentary… he didn't want to go back. He'd forgotten what freedom, though limited, had tasted like._

_The very words had set him on a frenzy and maybe even in a trance as he walked down the village path and gathered attention. The first being a woman bearing a child. She was worried, questioned him of his origin, health, parents, destination. He was too wrapped up in his own frightened thoughts._

_Darkness._

"_Child?"_

_Darkness._

"_Child, are you alright," she reached out, past her budding stomach._

_Darkness._

_Her hand circled around his shoulder. She had meant to stop him and console him because he looked entirely lost and scared for his little life, but his reaction was not what she had expected._

_The child turned, lashed out with the blade that he h__ad held tightly against his chest__. It was sudden and unexpected for him as he cried out when he dug the blade in the woman's stomach. Her blood… his first blood._

_She staggered back, the rapier being ripped away from her belly, and collapsed from panic. Right then, chaos took form. The villagers heard the cry and ran to see what __had brought forth such a painful sound_ _only to find the child and a bleeding, pregnant woman. Angered and surprised they attacked the child, but the child ran. However, the threat rang loud in his ears. The threat was overpowering, reached high over the villagers' demands to execute the little murderer._

_He fought back. Desperation at its finest. The blade cut through, faster and deeper. Blood poured like a river, his skin stained from death and his own wounds, and his eyes became all the more frightened. Each time someone fell from a wound at their neck or chest, that one, dreadful word repeated itself over and over like a living nightmare._

_Darkness._

_The child swung his sword blindly, ignored the opposing blades that grazed and punctured his body. Pain was a phantom, his mind did not register the blood that spilled from his gut, his back, or his arms. Perhaps it was the frequent punishments that had left him numb as the punishments were much more painful and much more bloody than the blades, pitchforks, torches, and fists of the villagers._

_The despairing thing was that __he had failed. Blood loss had anchored him down to reality and the urge to live drove him to run. Yet, even if he had somehow successfully eradicated the petite village's inhabitants__, darkness would have come to him no matter the outcome. He was thrown back into the cold chamber, into the heavy darkness. Only then as he found a place to sleep on the stone floor, his senses being drowned in the agony and smell of blood that had made its home on his body, did he come to the sick realization…_

_There was no such thing as trust, freedom._

_Trust and freedom had died a long time ago._

_Not just that, hope had died along with them. On that night, sanity did as well. __As his mind battled with his conscience, t__he child felt no guilt, no remorse, no regret, no sadness. Nothing. He was devoid as his crimson eyes stared off into the blinding dark. He no longer reached out in exploration, hoping beyond hope that he was not alone. He no longer called for someone to save him, no longer prayed, and no longer thought. The child did nothing._

_The child did nothing because on that night, he died._

* * *

It was a habit, to visit Telma's bar. Nowadays it was the only reason for Link to travel to Castletown on his free time despite getting to meet the princess. It was especially a habit to drink, but no matter how much he drank… nothing. It was as if the Goddesses had created their Chosen Hero to be derived from absolute perfection to the point where he couldn't even get drunk. Not that he wanted to, but he wanted to try it. Colin, Malo, and Talo did whenever he brought them along and they seemed to actually have fun as well as share an escape from everything.

For Link it was more of an escape from those that idolized him. Even in his own village, despite the recent deaths they had suffered, the people had been all over him… he couldn't get a moment of alone time even with the fellow soldiers he shared the battlefield with. They either wanted a favor from him, wanted him to show off his skills, or question him about his journey. Truth be told, it had gotten on his last nerve. However, he didn't mind when he was called to the castle itself. Zelda made things better. She did none of those things. She didn't even question him about his _lost_ friend, Midna.

At the very thought of her he took another sip of the Din awful drink. He blinked hard against the thick liquid that burned its way down his throat. For a while now, all he could think about was of the twilit imp. She had been with him through thick and thin during the Twilight War.

Twilight War, he laughed at the very name of it. The Hylians acted like they had taken part in it when they chattered about it on occasion in the bar, but in reality only Link had taken part. Despite this fact they had the gall to name it something that gave someone the impression that there had been more than one involved.

Now all of that didn't _really_ bother him. No, it was the fact that… the fact that…

He twirled the remaining liquid in the cup, eyes lifted slightly to gaze at Telma who was already flirting away with another customer. What was the fact? He really didn't know. This feeling… it was almost like a black hole, a void ripping him apart from the inside out…

Depression was never his thing. Perhaps it was the loss of Midna. Perhaps it was something els—

"Link!" He sat up in his chair, eyes widened at the sudden voice by his pointed ear; however, the surprise died off quickly, replaced by utter annoyance. Nevertheless, the hero managed to hide it with a half-smile. Especially when he realized who had disturbed him, turning his head to meet the bright, youthful eyes of Colin. Colin's honeyed locks were in a frenzy, misplaced by the wind, and he looked entirely out of breath as his face shone with sweat. "Look-look at-at this," his childhood friend and fellow brother-in-arms spoke briskly, breath heavy as he leaned against the counter, "Look!" At his order, he shoved a parchment across the countertop and right in front of the hero's drink.

"Is this another one of those sexu—"

"Just read it!"

Link gave a roll of his eyes, sighed. It was clear that he was reluctant to do so as he withdrew his attention from his drink and down to the parchment. His movement and interest were slow, but as his sapphire eyes wandered over the first line, "_Kakariko Massacre!_" he all but lost his nonchalant façade right then and there. Kakariko Massacre? His fingers curled into the paper, his smile having aggressively withered down into a thin line. Zelda had lied. She'd known of the event and had kept it away from him. To go as far as to hide something like this, something so frightening…


	4. Chapter 4

**Edited 6/7/16**

* * *

**Chapter 04 – Lying Low**

Music Suggestion: Forsaken by Sharm

"_This fall I think you're riding for—it's a special kind of fall, a horrible kind. The man falling isn't permitted to feel or hear himself hit bottom. He just keeps falling and falling. . ."_

― J.D. Salinger, _The Catcher in the Rye_

* * *

_There had been a time when he had felt peace, innocence, and sanity, but such a time was long gone now. That had been an entirely different dimension, different person… or so it felt like. Now, he was __an empty shell_ _plagued by constant darkness. The darkness had already consumed his sanity, little by little as he sat in the cold, damp corner of the endless chamber, and it was consuming his time and whatever else was left. Of course, he clung to himself for dear life, not desiring to fall any further, but after two years… losing himself became inevitable._

_Through those two, wretched years he began to find a sick happiness in blood. Why? It was an escape. It was the only chance he could get to escape from the darkness. Whether it was from a punishment, a "lesson," or an order of killing by the master… blood was a symbol of a paradise that the ill child had lost long ago._

_Solitude was something he treasured too. Darkness was slowly becoming something else, perhaps being placed as a "friend." After all, the boy was continuously alone. He was friendless._

_It took two years for the boy to become a monster when it had taken only two months for the boy to become nothing._

* * *

_The child hissed venomously as he was thrown back, his head cracked against the stone wall. "You will do as I say," came the thundering voice of his master. At the very tone the child cringed, hands immediately flying out to lash at the man that advanced toward him. "Calm down or there will be more than just a simple blow to the head." Earth colored arms reached out, grabbed the child's hands with a firm grip._

_Unwillingly, the child cringed again. The hold on his wrists was strong, perhaps too strong. He squirmed, flailed, kicked, but dared not scream. _Shadows were not supposed to speak_, or so his master said._

_His master pushed forward, spinning the boy till his chest was pressed against the wall with his arms held tightly over his head, "Now, you will journey—"_

* * *

Crimson eyes were unimpressed as they looked over the glimmering waterfall with a silent scowl. Even from where he stood, he could feel the _light_ that radiated from the waters beyond. Without a doubt it was Lanayru's doing, the light spirit that watched over the waters that the Zoras claimed. If he hadn't been plagued by such a wretched mood, he would have gladly stomped down to the cavern that Lanayru hid in and extinguished its light. Yet _guilt_ was to overpowering and instead he found himself staring at the waterfall, contemplating.

It wasn't luck that had gotten him this far, he just hadn't had a little run in with any Hyrulean soldiers. They would surely arrest him for suspicion as they had done so in the past, and even more so whenever the mess at the village was discovered. With that in mind, he had settled down to the idea of lying low, but why he chose the domain of the Zoras… he hadn't a clue. He detested fish and their fishy smell. It was goddess-awful, but for the sake of successfully evading officials, it would have to do.

However, he stayed where he stood. There was something wrong. Smile. He couldn't muster up a pretty, little smile. Perhaps he had overdone it this time with the killing. He gave a tilt to his head as if actually thinking it over and agr- no, blood was blood. The very thought brought a curl to his upper lip, but already he could tell that the very gesture wasn't enough. Innocence did not give off a sadistic smile like his. Of course, right when his thoughts circled around blood, there was no helping it. The color, the very essence of it was—

"Oh, may I help you Hylian?"

Link nearly gagged. The voice was peppered with sugar and even on the verge of being song-like. Yet he unwillingly found himself holding back from strangling the speaker as he turned, glaring. "No," the very answer was sudden, so sudden in fact that he had even surprised himself.

_How will that get you to find a place of shelter?_

The speaker, a feminine Zora-both genders looked alike to him so the thing _could_ be a male- gave a chuckle. It was rather unnerving and entirely unexpected. She laughed. _Laughed_. Usually people took offense to his usual, acidic tone. Reluctant and slightly irritated, he looked the fish over with a skeptical gaze. It looked like any other feminine fish of her kind, but her skin took on a golden hue as did her eyes. It was as if the very sun had given birth to her. Her scales were something out of the ordinary, while normal Zora scales gave off multiple colors in the water and certain lights, hers remained sun-kissed. Even the eyes were odd, a deep burgundy with the hint of gold. The irises were not as red as blood—his—but they were different nonetheless.

"Sorry, you just looked lost? Maybe troubled? I didn't mean to bother you," as she spoke, her head tentacles wiggled to and fro, and for some damn reason that was all he could focus on, head tentacles. "I'm the daughter of Ralis, my name is Rutela," she placed a webbed hand on her bare chest, "If you need me…"

His attention dropped from there and his thoughts scattered on the verge of _mild_ insanity. Ralis and Rutela, he'd heard of those names before long ago. It was a beautiful tragedy, a queen and a mother's death and a son's life on the _verge_ of death. It would have been exquisite if only the "Hero" hadn't stepped in and ruined it all. Oh, but the daughter, child of Ralis!

"And I'm sure you can ask anyone else for help as well. We're all very friendly, I promise!"

He refrained from blinking, portraying confusion, and practically anything else that would have given him away to the fact that he hadn't listened to a single thing she had blabbered. Nevertheless, Link did catch onto the word "help" like his very life depended on it. "Actually," he began, eyes finally lifted away from her head tentacles, "I was wondering if Zoras offered shelter? I've travelled quite a ways and have grown rather exhausted from building a makeshift tent here and there. It would be nice to settle for a day or two."

The appearance of pity was almost murderous. At that moment he didn't know what angered him more, pity or judgment. Her golden smile had withered into a look of despair. Why, if he didn't know any better, he would have believed she felt that it was her fault that he had a tiring traveler's life. "Of course. I'm sure my father would be more than happy to make accommodations for you," Rutela gave a nod as if to reassure herself, and the smile bounced right back as if it had never faltered at all, "Would you like to meet him in person, the King of Zoras?"

Another giggle.

Link would have visibly cringed at the bouncing laughter… would have; however, the notion of visiting royalty made _him_ giggle. Just that one thought made the guilt that had lovingly clung to him vanish.

Yes, he'd be _more_ than _happy_ to meet the beloved King of Zoras.

He'd be delighted.

* * *

With a crack, the single, wooden door slammed open with such noise that it gave the princess of Hyrule a fright. She stood from her chair, twirled madly in her skirts to find the noisy culprit, but as she turned on her naked heels did she jump back. Frustration, clear betrayal, and something else met her head-on. The man's face was like an open book as he lunged at her, Zelda expected the immediate reason without even a glance to the document that was clutched tightly by his pale fingers.

"What is the meaning of this?" However she did not expect his tone. Hesitantly, she took a larger step back from her writing desk and the heavily breathing male, moving delicately as if not wishing to scare the man off. Truth be told, she had gotten to know the man ever since their proper greeting after the Twilight Mirror shattered, but she'd never seen him like this.

"Zelda."

"Why are you so bent out of shape over—"

"I asked you and you—"

"Link, there was and is nothing—"

"It's my duty as a He—"

She slammed her fist down on the edge of the writing desk that she had been working on for the past four hours. For the love of Din, there were more things to deal with other than the Kakariko Massacre. Preparations, trials, investigations, and so much more necessary things to where she didn't have time to deal with a worn out… worn out…

_Exhausted hero._

"It _was_ your duty, Link. Was," the princess clicked her tongue, stabbed her finger at the writing desk's face with each word. She didn't even have to guess on which emotion would flood his face next as he clutched the article to his chest.

_Despair_. _Denial_.

"Hyrule needs me just as she always has." It was becoming something of a prayer. She'd heard it time and time again whenever something seemingly dire happened in Hyrule. Link always insisted on fixing it, poured his heart and soul into it, and each time he returned, he seemed more out of it the next. Hyrule could breathe without her hero always stepping into even the smallest of matters. Yes, the massacre was not a small event, but it wasn't the work of an oncoming darkness and that was another reason why the princess had refrained from informing the Hero.

"Not with this. My people have lived through countless tragedies without the golden Hero. We can live through this."

"Are you saying not to worry over a village's death?"

"Of course not, but you cannot do anything about it. There is no evidence that it was a force of darkness, there is no evidence to any known individual, and therefore there is no need for your heroic actions. Let me and my soldiers deal with this because like it or not, Hyrule cannot always count on her Hero. Yes, the event was an incredible tragedy, and I am doing everything in my power to find out who or what did this."

The princess glared in a childish manner, brows furrowed as her small nose scrunched up in a rather comical manner, but the Hero saw nothing humorous. Instead, he saw betrayal. It was a small act, yes, but it meant dearly to him. Without his title he felt alone. Without his name he felt nonexistent. Without his task as a Hero he felt useless. Of course, if he spoke these despairing thoughts aloud then the princess would shoo them away with a wag of her finger. She would blame it on his year long journey in Twilight, how the events had been traumatic, and all that goat shit.

He'd heard it numerous times.

"Just let me help, I—"

Zelda raised a dainty hand, glared, "As I have said, Hyrule cannot always count on her Hero, Link. If we keep relying on you, you might go insane, or worse… never come back from a journey. Besides, if you keep flaunting around and acting as the Hero then the people will start to use and abuse your name. They will not desire to do anything for themselves, offensive or defensive. They need to stand up for themselves because you are not immortal and you will not be around to help for all eternity. The Goddesses gifted you to Hyrule for protection when darker times showed themselves and as far as I am concerned, we just have some lunatic running amok. There is no darkness, no Ganon, no Zant, nothing. Now drop this conversation and leave my residence. I have work to do," with that she turned her back, skirts twirled and nipped at her ankles, "Go back to protecting the streets, fields, Ordon and enjoying life as it is."

Reluctance. At her words he wanted to scream, shout, cry, throw a childish tantrum, but in the end he obeyed. Reluctantly he turned his own back to the princess and unwillingly left without another word. How could he when he was feeling so much ferocity to the point of actually desiring something to whack at with his blade? The very thought made him sick to his stomach. Was he that angry over something so… so what? Small, large, sporadic? He shook his head as he continued sulking down the castle halls. She'd told him to go back to protecting his village that he had left, his home, but in reality Hyrule was his _home_, more so than anyone else's.

He couldn't blame his anger on princess Zelda. She did not know what he had to go through to save her and the kingdom. She did not lose someone precious to her. She did not battle the mindset of a blue-eyed beast. In truth, all she ever did was—all she ever does—sit and chatter.

* * *

_The thrones towered into the white void of a sky, reached so far up to the point where the backs of the magnificent chairs seemed to never end. Golden as they were, each surface glistened with a bit of "something." The appearances seemed to gain a sort of spirit within them for the first shifted with angry fires, the second shimmered like water, and the third moved like the leaves of a tree. Still, the chairs were gold._

_Atop the three thrones that reflected that of the land's elements, three women of white flesh and obsidian eyes leaned forward within their conversation. Their long gowns were of silk, colored to replicate the many colors that glistened amongst their chairs. The attire fitted nicely, hugging the bosom while flowing out about the body in the act of mimicking a waterfall. Oh, but their hair, all long and curled, but each with a different attitude. The first's hair was a fiery, wild mess of strands that poked this way and that, and it seemed to hold a bit of liveliness to it at the ends for they shifted like flames. The second's was a soft, gentle blue that waved down the shoulders and back, curled around the arms and legs. The third's was a dark green that fell to the floor, separate strands claiming different paths like that of vines on a tree's flesh._

"_But he is only a child," remarked the third, the green-haired maiden._

"_A child who is extremely dangerous and liable to end everything that we've created," replied the first, the red-head._

_The second, the woman of blue, held back her words. An elbow rested on her armchair, fingers tapped against her snowy lips, and her coal eyes wandered from the women before her, she considered. The topic at hand had been reaching this point for quite a while, but at the time not one had desired to speak out the issue until now. The sudden change was from the red-head, Din, who was gradually losing patience. "But what of his origin? His soul is tied with Sister Farore," the woman of blue gestured with a nod of her head to the woman of green._

"_That is irrelevant. There can only be one Chosen Hero, Sister Nayru. Even if this child is a mere remnant, it is going to tamper with the balance," din grumbled in turn._

"_This is true, but the child is still a part of the Hero; therefore, it can do no harm… as long as it remains in the correct mindset."_

"_Clearly it has fallen from that."_

"_Perhaps, but take a second look at it. It's crying out, begging for life to give it a second chance. Do you not hear it, see it? It's struggling to remain intact, inside and out, but the _reject of the Triforce _continues to twist its mind, body, and soul. If we were to take this reject out, perhaps the balance would remain as is. There is no way that there could be two Heroes, this child is a remnant and nothing more. It will amount to nothing."_

"_Either way, it does not matter. The reject is trying to go against the Hero. Sister Farore's Hero will definitely end such a disgusting and disgraceful existence."_


	5. Chapter 5

**Edited 6/7/16**

* * *

**Chapter 05 – Investigation**

Music Suggestion: _Varúð _by _Sigur Rós_

"_He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man."_

― Samuel Johnson

* * *

_It was cold and wet within that endless dimension that was filled with shallow waters and an abandoned tree that refused to bloom. Yet as he stood and stared up at the dead tree, he laughed. It was not a laugh of sheer regret but more of insanity. First it was darkness and now it was a room that held a void for all he could see around the tree was never-ending water. There was no door, walls, window, ceiling, _nothing_. The child would end up losing the last bit of his mind if this went on, staring into nothingness._

_With a withered hand, he touched the warped tree. His crimson eyes were distant, having lost their malevolent glow since his master had locked him within the watery dimension. "I wonder what it's like… to be the Hero," his voice burned with something like sorrow. Hatred. Despair._

_What was it like to be free? What was it like to be one's self?_

_What is it like to not be a shadow?_

* * *

Link woke with a start, fingers clawed into the thin fabrics of bedding as his eyes glared at the coral ceiling. Frustration. His eyes trembled with anger as he sprung up against the stiff mattress, fingers still tangled in thick bed covers. "Why? Why, why, why?" Link nearly growled under his breath, his hands releasing the soft material only to move onto either side of his head. Dreams were something he abhorred as they were just as bad as the feeling of guilt. They made him think and thinking, in that sense, made one soft. His former self was too soft, too weak. That child had focused on emotion to survive, unlike him. Link now focused on blood, violence, and hatred. They were the three things that embodied his personal darkness and they were the only things that had become a part of him and made him stronger.

"What's in the past is in the past," his eyes closed, jaws locked together.

The dark man would have continued to dwell in the fact that he had just fell victim to yet another memory if it were not for the two delicate taps on the sponge-fashioned door. Even if he was somewhat glad for the distraction, Link glared over at the door. Sitting up, he slid to the edge of the mattress and said, "Yes, can I help you," ss he spoke he found his gaze wander over to his gear. His beautiful blade sat atop a short dresser along with his tunic, trousers, and trusty hat. Beside the dresser, on the floor, were his belts, tattered boots, and shield. Ah, the shield. It was such a useless item; it was incredibly boring and did little to wound a person unless he smacked it over their head over and over…

It wasn't as fun.

"I apologize if I woke you, traveler," Rutela's giggling voice resounded behind the door. The very sound of laughter right when he woke up made him squirm. "Father sent me to wake you. He said he wishes to properly offer Zora hospitality. He also wishes to apologize that he could not greet you yesterday."

He stood, "All is well. Give me a moment to dress," the very tone that reverberated from his words made his eye twitch. Such politeness came from a mouth like his? Revolting.

To his dismay, the female Zora continued to stay by the door. Of course, that part didn't entirely bother him, but the fact that she continued idle chatter while he pulled on his clothes urged him to smack her with his shield. It was a pleasant urge, but one he withheld from acting out. Although it would offer an interesting meeting between the Zora king and himself, it would draw too much attention. Even if he found himself craving the appearance of blood so early in the morning, another murderous rampage would have to wait until Hyrule closed the case on Kakariko. That is, if they even discovered the peril yet. Besides, he would have to find another way to drive the Goddesses out of their haven.

Rutela met him at the door with the brightest of smiles, "Good morning!" He simply averted her gaze and pushed past her. His reply a brisk grunt, but even that choice of greeting did little to dissuade her cheerfulness, "I don't think I caught your name the other day, traveler."

_It would be rather idiotic to use the name of someone famous here. It would be different if I were to rip this place asunder..._ Link pondered as he eyed the top of the girl's head. If he spoke his name aloud then questions would surely arise. After all, he did look like the real thing—Hyrule's very own Link. _But reactions are always amusing._

"Traveler," said Rutela.

"It's Link." Just as he predicted, a look of surprise flashed across her smiling face. Even her muddy, red eyes widened at the very name and looked over him from head to toe.

"Are you _the_ Link?"

It was his turn to be authentically surprised. Of all the presumptions, she stuck to assuming the possibility that he _was_ the Hero? He wanted to laugh. He wanted to let his façade slip just a bit and laugh. The laugh would be twisted and visibly sadistic. It would scare her to death no doubt. He refrained. "Sad to say, I am not." He did allow a bit of a snowy smile to slip through.

"But you look just like him and— _areyouafanoftheHeroofTimetoo_," the Zora female squealed and clasped at her hands and Link took a cautious step back.

"No, I'm afraid I am no fan of the Hero. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad for what he has done, but I am not obsessed with him. I simply…" he paused for a moment. Surely she was deciding this from his chosen attire. "I simply agree with his taste in clothing and adventuring gear," Link gestured to himself with a slight shrug. _What a weak explanation._

"You're a spitting image of him though, despite the black hair and blood eyes."

"I get that a lot."

She replied with a fit of giggles before she turned on webbed feet, "It must be an honor, to resemble the Hero so closely."

An honor? He sneered at her back as he followed her along the coral hallway. The whole ordeal was more like a curse. "It definitely is an interesting thing."

Rutela led the lookalike-Hero down the hall and down the staircase to the throne room. They entered from the back, the first sight being that of King Ralis's stone throne that held a carved story of Zora history from the beginning to the events of Twilight. At its center looked to be a fresh carving of the murder of the former queen, Rutela, but it was hard to recognize entirely as the stone throne was already somewhat eroded by its wet inhabitants. They moved around it, and the room opened up into a pool that was drawn out into the lake far below. Its edges dotted with the occasional blue-stoned torch and armored Zora. The Zora guards stood from the pool of water, their backs up against the walls of coral-like vines.

"Rutela." Link looked away from what he believed was called the Zora Domain and instead found himself meeting face to face with the Zora King, Ralis. He sat upon his throne, one leg crossed the other. The first feature that Link focused on was the color of the Zora's abnormally large eyes. Perhaps it was because they were green, a striking and almost ethereal green. A rather surprising contrast when compared to that of his daughter's blood eyes. Unlike Rutela, his scales gave off multiple colors, but they did give a shimmer of dominant color. Gold. Perhaps royal Zoras all had gold scales? Link pondered this, wondered if gold scales from a Zora made a high price in the market.

Ralis took one look at the dark fellow and all but fell off his throne. "Link," he leaned forward, almost got up from the stone. The very movement made the intricate golden necklace of diamonds jingle about his scaly throat. Even his head tentacles, the two on either side of his head, jiggled.

"I'm afraid not, but I do bear the name of Link."

The king frowned, "Oh, apologies. Sorry to have assumed, but you look very similar to the hero of Hyrule." He settled back in his throne, one leg crossing the other. "I'm sure you get that a lot though. Oh, but where are my manners," he gestured with a webbed hand to his chest, "I am Ralis, king of the Zoras." At his own name, the Zora raised his chin as if proud by the title.

It took a moment for Link to find the bit of desire to bow his head. The gesture was entirely one of reluctance, but he figured it best to act like the polite, nice little traveler. "I am Link, a traveler of sorts from the outskirts of Hyrule. It is an honor to be able to meet a king. May I ask for a temporary stay in your domain? It would only be for a few days so that I may rest up before I continue my travels."

"Why, of course…"

The king's words were interrupted by the clicking of metal. Metal, the very sound of it made Link raise a brow. It sounded like footfalls. Metal… armor. His nose scrunched up at the prediction and when he turned to face the creator of that sound he nearly gagged. A Hyrulean soldier, probably one of the types that trembled at the mere sight of a wolf.

The soldier walked awkwardly as if unaccustomed to either walking in thick armor or walking on wet floors. Either way he looked rather silly for he appeared short and his armor looked a bit too big. It took him a good, long moment before he stopped with the heavy footsteps, bowed once before lifting the visor on his glistening helmet. The first thing that caught Link's eyes was the hair and he almost froze at the color of it but calmed when he saw the face. It was not _his own_, good. The soldier tugged at the material that fell from his chest, a cloth that had the royal family crest at the middle, he said, "Sorry to interrupt, your highness, but I have troubling news from the king of Hyrule."

_That was quicker than expected._ Link thought bitterly. Where was all the fun in that?

"Troubling news?" Ralis repeated.

Before the soldier looked over the trio properly, Link turned his back and wandered around the throne. As far as he knew, the royal family had no suspicion that there was a look-alike Hero. For a while, Link intended to keep it as such. The youthful soldier noticed Link's aversion for he craned his neck as much as his heavy garb would allow, but at the king's words he dismissed the action. "Kakariko is no more since the 341st. The denizens have all been murdered."

If the room was not quiet before, it was now. Not even the sound of flickering flames lifted over the silence.

"That's impossible," Rutela murmured, her muddy eyes widened.

"Is this the return of Twilight," asked Ralis. He seemed rigid, his large eyes having fallen into slits.

"We found no evidence of a return. The princess of Hyrule has initiated an investigation on behalf of the fallen. So far, it is believed to be a simple, crazed lunatic—perhaps more than one. At the moment the case is still ongoing and we are alerting every affiliated party of Hyrule," said the soldier.

"Any suspicions or survivors?"

"There were no survivors. At this time, we only know that the murderer or murderers used a blade to kill."

"Inform the king and his daughter that the Zoras will give their all with this case. This is dreadful news, to lose the people of Kakariko."

"Thank you, your highness. The royal family will be happy for the positive news and yes, I wish to not see another sight like Kakariko ever again," the soldier bowed once more, "Although I have placed terrible news upon your people, I—Colin of Ordon—wish to request to stay within your domain for a few days. I must continue the investigation by questioning your people."

Link glared at the floor, mentally conjured every curse word that came to mind. Perhaps he should have introduced himself with a different name, but the reactions were oh so comical. Either way he should have thought things through.

"Yes, of course. You may stay as long as the case remains open. You are welcome to start the rest of your investigation today or tomorrow."

The Goddesses be damned.

Rutela, who had situated herself beside her father's throne, turned to Link. Her eyes were still wide, perhaps from shock. "Come Link, let's get away from such awful news. Besides, I'm sure father and the soldier would like to discuss the investigation in privacy." She reached for his hand only to grasp air. For a moment she remained, one hand extended out into emptiness. Was it so uncommon for someone to reject an open hand? Was it so uncommon for someone to turn away so that they could not be touched? "Apologies," she murmured, "Let's go to the lower level to get you something to eat." She withdrew her hand and tacked a smile onto her face. Although he would find better interest listening to the talk between king and soldier, Link grudgingly followed after the young Zora. After making sure that he was still obscured from the soldier, "Thank you for your time, your highness."

The soldier, Colin, watched in silence until the duo disappeared up the stairs, "Did that Hylian fellow… was he wearing the attire of the Hero?" His eyes, a dull blue like foggy water, shifted to the king, "His hat and tunic looked very similar, despite the color."

"Yes, I believe he was. His features are strikingly similar to the Hero as well. I mistook him for the Hero even."

"Did you get his name? His origin?"

"No, but he mentioned that he had traveled from the outskirts of Hyrule. He called himself Link. Rather odd, don't you think?"

* * *

The dark man stabbed at the seaweed with a vengeance. Acting like a nice, sane being was becoming more difficult by the second. Rutela wasn't helping Link's nerves or his twisted mind. Already she had settled to chattering about nonsense of which he had stopped listening too after they had been served salad that consisted of seaweed and seaweed alone. It was very rubbery and dry, but he was hungry and food was food. Either way he couldn't properly taste things as they were. He only guessed that the substance was rubbery and dry due to the way that the fork stuck into it. For all he knew it tasted like heaven.

"_Ooooooh_, who's your favorite Goddess? I love Nayru and the fact that she favors wisdom."

He favored none as he hated every last one of the godly dogs. They deemed him as an abomination, as nothing but a remnant, and in their perfect world they had no place for him, a mistake. It angered him, their love for the Heroic Link and their hatred for him, the dark Link. If they could interfere with life then they would have extinguished his existence, left him to rot in the darkness that he sought for again perhaps they fancied letting him roam without a goal, without a heart and without sanity. He never really tasted freedom, even when he left his master long ago. To them, they surely saw him as nothing but a puppet, but even if he was just a simple shadow of the Hero, he did have a life and he did have a soul.

"Farore," Link muttered and stabbed viciously at the seaweed for the umpteenth time.

"Really? The Goddess that favors courage? That's the Hero's Goddess, she favors the Hero of Time above all else. Legend says that the Hero comes when the land has fallen into dark times. It happened this time with the Twilight, but the Hero never had to go as far as to search for the Triforce."

At the mention of the Trifroce, Link slowly looked up from his plate. The Triforce had the power to reflect one's innermost desires. It had the ability to grant any wish that came from the so-called "heart." A gift from the Goddesses, the most sacred of creations. Supposedly the people believed the shards of the Triforce belonged to the Chosen Ones. Perhaps if he had the shard of the Triforce, Courage, then he could be the _real_ Hero. Link mused at that and set back to stabbing at the rubbery substance. If he got his hands on the Triforce, things would become a lot more fun… a lot better. He would have a real life then. He would exist with meaning. The light wouldn't hurt then and the darkness wouldn't dare touch him.

Rutela continued her idle chatter. The incessant noise of her voice was rather stressful on his thoughts. It was hard to calm his hunger for silence, but having someone as annoying as the talkative Zora made him… made him incredibly…

He abruptly stood, "If you'll excuse me. I find that I cannot eat another bite."

"Oh then would you like a tour around…"

"That won't be necessary. I prefer to explore for myself, thank you," with that he turned and quickly left the small dining room that consisted of a lone, round table. He left Rutela in surprise as well as his plate.

The Zora princess sighed and halfheartedly wondered if she had been too talkative. Her father did warn her of her continuous tongue. Still she found that to talk non-stop in front of the traveler was better than the silence. With the silence and his crimson gaze it made her feel extremely uncomfortable.

Right as he walked out of archway to the dining room, Link bit back a sigh. Colin, the Hyrulean soldier from earlier, was leaning against the wall by the archway. His long, shaggy hair obscured milk-blue eyes as he looked up from his boots to meet Link's gaze. Instead of armor, Colin was dressed in a red tunic. The chainmail underneath took the color of a glimmering gold. At the midpoint of his chest rested the crest of the royal family. Curious, Link glanced at the boy's waist. As suspected, the soldier wore a belt and at his side was a glistening blade. It was a downside because if Colin had his suspicions then it meant that Link had to get down and dirty with his hands. It wasn't that he liked hand-to-hand combat, but the idea of being the one weaponless made him cautious as well as angry.

With a grimace Link forced himself to press further down the hall, he quickened his pace, but Colin reached out and grasped Link's shoulder. Ignoring the cold atmosphere that immediately took over at the mere touch, Colin said, "You're Link?" Link turned abruptly at the query and smacked the hand away. The quick movement and portrayal of clear dislike did little to affect the soldier's emotionless face as he asked, "You call yourself Link, yes?"

"Call? I _am_ Link," Link snapped.

"Where do you hail from?"

"Outskirts of Hyrule."

"A place. Name a place."

"Lost Woods."

"That's impossible."

"Apparently not, if I'm here right now."

"Where were you on the 341st?"

"Traveling. I was venturing from the Lost Woods to here."

"Do you own a sword?"

"Dear Goddesses, I would hope so. How else would I protect myself while adventuring?"

"I wish to see this blade." Link refrained from a growl. The very thought of allowing someone else to touch his sword or look upon it freely was insulting. It was disgusting. However, he wasn't stupid. Refusal would raise suspicion. Acceptance to the request would make him appear innocent. "Why is your name Link? I would understand if you were born after the Twilight War, but you appear much older than I."

_Maybe you should just slit the brat's throat._

"Why is your name 'Colin?' My mother simply thought the name was fascinating. She loved the darn thing and decided to call me it. Is it a crime to bear the Hero's name?"

"No sir, my apologies, but isn't it odd? You look exactly like the hero. Speaking of which, have you ever met the hero face-to-face."

In a sense, yes, but that was a rather long time ago. "No." He didn't plan to anytime soon.

"Hmm, alright. Now, your sword. I wish to see it."

Link stared at him, his fingers curling at his sides as he finally let loose a sigh. Hesitance drove him to turn on his heel and lead the way back to his room. All the while, anger bit at his thoughts as he stomped down the hall. When they did reach his room, Link reluctantly plucked his sword from its resting resting against the dresser. Handing the precious object to the young soldier was stressful. That sword was his and no one else's. His. His. His.

Colin swept a finger over the surface of the blade, his reflection stared back at him as he traced over the insignia of the Triforce with a curious eye. His attention started from the hilt and scanned down to the dangerously sharpened point. Then the sword's edges, the boy took the longest time looking over the edges, his nose scrunching up as if he could smell the blood that was once obscuring its blackened shininess. Finally, after what felt like a silent millennium, he adjusted his gaze toward Link, "The blades also look similar. This looks like the Master Sword despite its color." He switched the sword so that he was holding it with one hand at the hilt.

"It was a gift. It's specially made to look like the Master Sword."

"Uh-huh. Now, one last question and then I will take my leave. May I see your hands?" Link raised a brow and waved his hands about him. "No, I mean to see the back of your hands without the gloves."

_Kill him. Kill him. Kill him._ His puzzled stare cracked. He knew his tendencies were washing over his face thanks to the look of surprise that lingered over the soldier's stoic face. Link was furious. Of all the blind idiots, this brat had figured him out. Well, figured him out to the point of knowing that he was a copy of sorts. Nevertheless, he did as the soldier requested and removed his gloves one after the other. He took great care in removing the one at his right—the hero bearing the mark on his left, but not for him, the darker Link. Everything was opposite. Letting his gloves fall to the floor, he flashed the back of his left hand. Colin seemed rather confused as he stared at the nakedness there, but then he gestured for the other hand. Link glanced at his feet, eyes falling to the shield that was just a step away from his boots.

He showed his right hand.

"You're a copy of Link," Colin exclaimed, almost dropped the blade in his excitement, "but how? Why? I thought we only received one hero from the Goddesses?" Link shifted a bit to the side, drew himself closer to the shield. "Are you here because of Kakariko? The massacre? Or…" his words stopped short and the abruptness brought Link to look back at him, "Unless…" his words left him once more and his eyes widened to the point where they were far larger than King Ralis's eyes.

At his quick realization, Link let loose a wicked grin. Its very presence seemed to darken the room. It felt good to break the façade even if it was only for a silent smile. Without another word he picked up the shield. No doubt that it too looked like the hero's own shield at the moment. A symbolic shield from Hyrule, but on his, the surface art was upside down and the colors inverted. He always had deemed it useless. Defensive maneuvers were never his interest, but today he reconsidered. "Unless I murdered them?" He laughed at his own words. The laughter, it mimicked shattered glass, but that wasn't what made Colin shiver. It was the _feel_ of the laughter. It was like the unforgiving cold of winter—piercing.

"Wait, what are you…" Colin's fingers slipped, the unholy sword clattered to the floor.

"Would you like me to demonstrate what happened? How they all died? Or would you like me to introduce you to a different death?" Link cackled and took gradual steps toward closer the young soldier, backing him up onto the wall. The desire to survive drove Colin to reach for his own blade, but fear made him slow as he withdrew it only to block the shield.

The shield's face smacked against the blade of the soldier, the weight created painful recoil but Colin pushed against the shield with all his might. Link brought it back only to send it back down again and the second connection of shield and sword stung the nerves. Reverberations urged Colin's fingers to slip on the hilt and cry out once the shield connected with his skull.

He felt the immense pressure dig into his scalp, felt heat boiling on his forehead. A third hit. His vision blurred and grayed aggressively, but he could still see those crimson eyes as clear as day. Fourth hit. He heard it before he felt it, his skull cracked from the thick metal of the shield.


	6. Chapter 6

**Edited 6/8/16**

* * *

**Chapter 06 – Comrade**

Music Suggestion: I Am Undone by Nitzer Ebb

"_We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light."_

― Plato

* * *

Link lifted his shield up to his chest, its face splattered with blood. There was still the desire to slam the shield over and over on the Hyrulean soldier, but he refrained. Not because he felt guilt, but more or less because he found no need to after the eleventh blow. The soldier, Colin, had been dead by the fourth hit. For a moment Link mused how fun it would have been if Colin had remained in his armor. It would have offered more of a challenge; however, blood was blood. His murderous urges were silent, for now.

He dropped the shield, its face clattered to the floor near the corpse's feet. Without a second glance to his latest victim he turned to reach for his blade on the floor. It too was stained with blood, but he didn't fret over wiping its blackened surface. Instead he found himself marveling at the sight.

"Link?"

Red eyes lifted from the blade and over to the door, "I'm busy." He spoke harshly, his positive act having been damaged by the sudden turn of events. It didn't bother him that he couldn't reply with a bit of politeness; however, if he wanted to continue acting like an innocent traveler then he would have to return to his act soon. He looked at the blade again, smiled. The façade could wait. Then again how was he supposed to hide the splattered mess that had taken refuge on the walls and floor? How was he supposed to explain why the youthful soldier was in his room with his brains turned to mush by a shield? Not to mention the smell that was already claiming the room as its abode. It smelt like fresh meat and rust.

_There's always a fairy_. He shook his head at that, wild strands of black fell into his gaze. Where was the fun in that? What was the point? The boy would probably remember, considering Link's luck. _Taint him._ Again he shook his head at his own thoughts, treated them as if they were a voice from someone who stood right next to him. "Goddesses no," he chuckled half-heartedly, mused over the very idea. Colin had too much will, too much maturity, and far too many years to be brainwashed. Those ten and under were easy to manipulate, but those over in their years were an entirely different story. There was always the option of manipulation by sexual conduct, but it wasn't as amusing.

_The Triforce's power perhaps?_ No. He could barely control his mind let alone his own darkness. He'd only been able to control it once and that was when he first met the Hero of Time while being trapped in the Goddess forsaken chamber of never-ending water. Since then, the Goddesses had stripped him of that willpower and he had lost the majority of what was left long ago.

_Threaten him with fear._ Dark Link smiled sweetly, giggled to himself as if he had just shared a joke with his thoughts. Taint with fear? What a wonderful thought. Granted, it would be nice to hear of the turmoil that Hyrule and her people would receive after finding out one of their soldiers had been brutally murdered. Then again, perhaps this young soldier was no one special. _No, he knew of Link._ Yes, but anyone and everyone knew of _the_ Link.

Dropping the shield to the floor, he turned to look through his clothes and adventuring gear on the dresser for his pouch. He rarely used the worn item and had forgotten that he owned such a thing. Sure enough as he crouched down to inspect his contents on the floor, his crimson eyes wandered over the belt that held the satchel by a strand of twine. He used it so rarely, but he always made sure to keep a bottled faerie handy. Even a murderous shadow had to be careful. He wasn't invincible after all.

The bottle was tucked away under a few green rupees that he had stolen from some poor man's pottery. Its cork top was small and short, he'd have to use his nails to get it off, and the bottle was barely the size of his fist. Withdrawing the small bottle from the satchel, the very item giving off a faint glow of pink from the little ball of light that was confined within, he brought it up to his eyes. The glow was very dim, but it wasn't entirely surprising. He had "collected" the fairy long ago so it was understandable to see the light of the creature dwindling. If he didn't use the faerie soon or free it then it would most likely die within its glass prison.

Laughing internally at the convenience of having the faerie on hand, he turned to the blond headed corpse. A part of him desired to add more blood to the scene, but again he refrained. He needed a protégé anyways, willing or not, and so he stuck his nails into that stubby cork and freed the faerie. The faerie, having been trapped within the bottle for years, flew straight out and away in hopes to flee—duties forgotten. However, its escape was caught short when Link snatched it from the air by its silvery, silky wings. It gave a whisper of a scream, something similar to pages in a book being turned over by the wind.

Fairies healed wounds that harmed the body. Though the soldier was dead, he had only been so for a short time. His internals were still fresh and he was still untouched by decay. Although fairies healed wounds, they also healed failed internals. They healed stopped hearts and, if they were strong enough, dead souls. However, the process was tedious and long. If the faerie did not perform the magic correctly then the wounded would become broken—undead or suffer from internal damage. The idea of having an undead soldier following him around was indeed interesting, but he preferred the boy as he was before his head had gotten bashed in by a shield.

He released the faerie by Colin's broken head. His fingers tingled with the faerie's dust as he watched it fall like a feather to the soldier's lap. Its light was weaker than before and perhaps weakening still. Clearly the plan would not work.

Maybe he had a bottle of Red Potion? He mused at the very thought. If he did then the bottle was likely just as old and useless as the faerie. Nevertheless, he took a gander at his pouch as he hummed a sporadic tune. It was entirely disturbing for another if they had witnessed the scene. It was even more disturbing when he gave a chuckle at his findings and dug out not one but two small, glass bottles from the pouch. As he had guessed, the bottles were dusty and the reddish substance inside was thick with age and fermented. When had he gotten these? Link shrugged. It didn't matter.

Uncorking both bottles, the very objects easily fitted into one palm due to their size, he grabbed the broken head of the young man by his bloodied hair and pulled him upward. Jerking the neck back, he set the first lip of the bottle against the Colin's mouth. It took a moment for the liquid to start dripping in and he partly wondered if he should shake them up. However he kept at it, waited patiently even when the second bottle's innards were thicker than the last. Thicker than molasses it seemed.

When the last bit of potion dropped into death, Link pulled back and allowed the corpse to crumple onto the floor. For a moment he stood there, watching, but nothing happened. Not surprising. It could take a while, perhaps a day or two. Definitely longer than a faerie's aid would take. Still he stood and stared as if the carcass was the most interesting thing in the world and to him… perhaps it was.

_What is it like to be dead?_

* * *

The heroic Link brushed a free hand through dirty, blond hair, his other tangled up in the reins of his trusted steed. From atop her back he could see the white hairs that littered her face. Epona was getting rather old, but she was just as quick and just as intelligent as she was during his first ever journey. If anything, she had gotten faster. It took not but ten minutes to reach the village of Kakariko, but entering through the village's broken gate was a different story. At some point, still fuming about the words between Zelda and himself, he had went from the castle to the closed off village's gates where he had been standing for a good while.

Though the ride was brief, he had wondered… what could he do? Zelda had clearly not told him much. Surely there was more information then what she gave, but what if there wasn't? What if he couldn't do anything? What if another village—his village—fell under the same fate, death?

Ordon covered in blood…

It drove him to the edge, the hair at the base of his neck stood on end. The very thought conjured up his wild imagination, the paranoia of a man who had already gone through a lot in his life. He could picture it all with sickening ease.

_I won't allow that to happen._

Easier said than done.

Vehemently he shook his head, startling his steed at the abrupt movement as he urged her forward. There's no way he'd allow that to happen. No way. Not even if the Goddesses themselves wished it. He'd damn them all.

His determination was short lived as he and his partner in crime strode through the gates, his nose was assaulted with the stench of blood and something else… something… dead. It was so strong, so noisome, that he had to pull at the reins and try to get in a fresher breath. Dear Farore, the stench was _disgusting_. Worse than the Bokoblins after they were left for dead, festering in the hot Hyrulean sun and that was saying something.

Forcing air into his lungs wasn't successful. Each breath brought in the hot, decayed stench of aged meat into his chest. He could taste it now and that very realization made him want to vomit. The Hero covered his mouth, but even the gesture did little to mask the scent. Still, he stuck with it and urged Epona to move once more.

The sight was even worse than the stench. Kakariko itself was a fairly sized village with huts aligning the main road and even further up on the higher levels of the canyon. From where Epona stopped, he could see the spring of Eldin as well as the mountain of corpses beside it. The pile was beating the height of the shaman's—Renado's—abode and appeared to be still growing as the soldiers at the base of it added another carcass to the masses. The twisted limbs, silent faces, and splattered blood that made the mountain… no… monument of bodies made his stomach twist into knots. The blood. He eyed it warily, noted that even from here he could see it tainting the sands underneath all of the death.

"Master Link?" The hero looked away rapidly, glad for the distraction. A soldier sided Epona, his height barely reached the horse's head. "Did the princess send you, sir," he tilted his head, lifted the visor up from his helmet. Link had to squint at him to get a proper view, the man's armor glinted brightly from the hot sun.

"I came on my own accord," said Link.

The soldier nodded, "I see. Well, we could use another pair of hands and a fresh set of eyes. We are all a little depressed after having to round up the bodies. It's…" he sighed, clasped his hands together. Link nodded, blue gaze settled over those gloved hands that were caked with blood. "It's just awful, sir. The spring isn't clear anymore. It looks like Red Potion now with all of the… fluids. The stench is awful, the Kakariko cemetery is too small for all of our fellow Hyruleans, and all we know is that the weapon of choice was a blade of some sort."

"You may have to settle with burning the bodies."

"I would like to not do so, sir, but it seems we may have to. We're currently waiting for a decision from the Royal Family as nothing has come up from our investigation."

"May I have a look around?"

The soldier nodded, "By all means. As I said, good pair of hands and a fresh set of eyes are welcome."

At his words Link dismounted Epona, "Then please continue your duties. If I find anything useful I will surely find you… Mister…"

"Giovanni," the soldier nodded once more before he turned his back to the hero, "I hope you find something. It'd be nice to have more than just the suspicion of what type of weapon was used."

Link watched him go, running off to the mountain of bodies to aid his fellow men. At the sight of the mass of death Link averted his gaze and looked at the huts instead. Perhaps if he found where the massacre started? Then again how helpful would that be?

_Eldin could help me, _he thought but shook his head visibly. Giovanni had told him that the spring was tainted with blood. Surely that would influence the spirit negatively? The springs were always crystal clear and clean… surely- _It wouldn't hurt._ True, but he would have to go up to the deceased. _But if I can get the spirit to help me out… _That small bit of hope clung to him like a frightened child.

Walking to the rest of the Hyrulean soldiers wasn't an issue. He kept his eyes downcast as he trudged down the path that he had wandered down so long ago, when the village had needed a Hero during Twilight. As he walked, he would see a spot of blood, a scrap of clothing, or an appendage. The very sight, though smaller in comparison to what lied ahead, bothered him. He'd seen death and gore before, but this was different. It was a whole different level of death. Those that had died were people he had learned to love and cherish. These people, this village, had helped him through so much and even more so in his journey.

It felt longer than a minute until he reached the spring. His boots stopped at its edge, gaze falling to a sort of tunnel vision as the smell nearly suffocated him. Again he covered his mouth before stepping into the spring.

Like so many times before, he felt the slight tingling sensation of warmth and softness flood over his senses; however, the feeling was vague and it felt more like something was scratching him or like a bug was climbing up his trousers. "Eldin," he whispered the name, wondered if he would sound silly to the soldiers at his back if they overheard him call for the spring's spirit so casually.

No response.

It wasn't unexpected but it still placed a frown on his lips. The frown descended further when he stared at the rippling, red water. Eldin was here, he was sure of it, but how to contact the light? It would be awkward to talk aloud. Surely the spirit could hear its name being whispered? The next option was to… was to… he scrunched up his nose at the very thought.

_Drink it._

No way would he succumb to that.

_Drink. It._

He winced, and the thought forcibly came back just as quickly as he had shook it away. Was that thought even his own? Perhaps but was it possi—

_Drink it. Let the red waters run._

The Hero's face morphed into disgust as he crouched down, his knees and lower legs soaked and reddened by the spring. All the while the thought echoed, became something like his conscience as it chanted about drinking bloodied water and letting it run. In truth it scared the living daylights out of him. Was this a darkness trying to manipulate him or was it Eldin trying to communicate? That made him pause.

"What?" His eyes widened as his hand unwillingly fell to the depths of the water, his body slowly becoming unresponsive. No, no, he wanted to stop. There's no way he would drink blood. Nevertheless, even as he struggled, his hand steadily came up with a palm filled to the brim with water. Without consent his mouth opened wide and his hand leveled up to his lips. The only thing that he did have control over was his eyes of which he closed tight.

_Let the red waters run, Hero._

* * *

"_Hero, the peace is descending, shadows are darkening, the blood is thickening. Souls are suffocating. Slowly but surely, everything is ending. Everything is rotting, falling, and dying. This world is not fit for two ascending. One must die and the other be living… but one cannot live while the other is descending. It's the soul that needs mending, but the darkness isn't worth saving. It's far too lost with independent thinking."_

"_It will surely paint Hyrule with blood… not even light… not even light…"_


	7. Chapter 7

**Edited 6/8/16**

* * *

**Chapter 07 – Bloody Forecasts**

Music Suggestion: Voices by Crown the Empire

"_Some nights are made for torture, or reflection, or the savoring of the loneliness."_

—Poppy Z. Brite

* * *

_Skin kissed by sun, hair touched by fire, and eyes bathed in darkness. The tall man stared at his very likeness with a look of monotony. He studied the scars that riddled his tanned skin, the beard that began to creep its way over his chin, the way his mouth curved downward against defined cheekbones, and his left hand. That accursed mark, it was so beautiful and yet so depressing. Gold and glittering, a triangle made of three. He had been told that it was the gift of the Goddesses. He had been told that he was a Chosen One underneath the gaze of Din. He held power. However, it was a mistake. He was not meant for such a gift._

_Was a thief not good enough for such endowments?_

_Was he himself not good enough to wield such beautiful power? Even now he could feel it, the magic that coursed through his veins._

"_M-Mas-Master." His frown seemed to deepen, the corners of his mouth darkened. The scratchy and thick voice of one of his skeletal minions was unnerving. He had specifically requested to be left to remain in solitude._

"_What is it, miscreant," he spoke as he eyed the short soldier in the mirror. Unlike a Hyrulean soldier, where the armor was always pristine, the skeletal creature's armor was layered in rust. It looked almost pitiable, being as short as a six year old child it stood there and trembled with shield and spear in hand._

"_I know you asked for no disturbance, but… but the ritual was completed. The child is a success." He turned from the mirror then, bloodied cape waved around his backside. A child? "However, he… well… the child isn't exactly a striking resemblance to the Hero."_

_Its master raised a brow and his smile died quickly. Had he not done as the old hags ordered? How could the experiment, the ritual, have gone wrong? "What do you mean," he questioned._

"_Master, the child is inverted. Black instead of green, black instead of blond, and red instead of blue. It is the opposite of what the prophecy spoke of."_

_He pondered that for a moment, turned his back to the minion. A negative Hero perhaps? That was troublesome. He had meant to create a monstrosity that resembled the Hero foretold. He had meant to tarnish the prophecy and much more. Then again... it could work to his benefit._

* * *

Link's blue eyes shown bright as he gasped for air, his stomach twisted up in knots as Eldin's voice rang loud and clear in his head. The speech was so fast yet so weak, but its very presence pushed him down to his hands and knees. He attracted undesired attention from the nearby soldiers and they quickly took to his side. They were all speaking to him, worry etched over those that held their visors up, but Link couldn't hear anything. No, all he could hear were the words of Eldin and his own heartbeat that escalated with each syllable.

A soldier grabbed his shoulder, shook him gently, but he didn't feel it. Another soldier hovered in his face, but by the time that the soldiers attempted to assist Hyrule's favored Hero, Link's senses had died down to that of an infant's acknowledgement. His hearing was restrained of course, but now his vision was blurring. The colors faded to black until only the red water remained. Crimson twisted like a whirlpool, enveloped his sight with a blinding light.

It burned. The pain crept along his flesh, dug in like a meat cleaver. Then the burning heat, it made his throat shrivel up, made his very eyes fall back into his skull.

Images of piled corpses—higher than the castle's tallest tower—and oceans of blood took over, ran across his vision like running water. Over and over, Eldin's words repeated until the words themselves were so loud that he thought his ears would start to bleed. Then…

Nothing. Silence. Painfully silent. It struck him like a sword blow and his body heaved forward, throwing up what little water he had consumed. He could feel it, the pain that lingered in those bodies. He could _hear_ it. Their screams, their dying wishes, their last words, and their lives and it made him want to claw out his eyes, his ears. Everything and anything to get away from the omen that Eldin forcefully fed him. Their fear enveloped him and it was simply too much to bare.

They were innocent… they were—

"_There can only be one."_

What in Farore's name did that mean? He struggled underneath the light spirit's foreboding presence. The Hero tried to speak, perhaps even scream, but the desire fell when the onslaught of visions took over the silent darkness once more. The visions exploded into view like a white hot burst of flame. It was the first time in his tragic life to receive such a vision, to feel the actual presence of Eldin or any other light spirit. However, he could only focus on the sick desire to drink even more of the bloodied water, and perhaps to even bathe in it… a twisted sort of thought that was alien to his own.

"_A shadow cannot live alongside reality. A shadow…"_

"Master L—"

"_will bring Hyrule…"_

"Can you hear me, Mas—"

"_down to her knees. It is an abomination. It wields no heart, no soul, no humanity—an abomination."_

"Master Link!"

"_Hyrule, she will rot."_

The Hero wretched again, the omens ripping away from him like a sword pulled away from flesh. "Master Link, can you hear me?" He blinked then, sapphire eyes tried to focus on something other than the visions that still clouded his sight… anything that would resemble reality.

A soldier, the one that still screamed in Link's face, shook him roughly for the seventh time. Desperation clung to the youthful man's tone as he spoke the famous Hero's name once more. Around him, his comrades stood in silence, watching the oddity take place. They had seen the Hero drink the water, they had heard him scream, and then watched as he fell into the water's inky grasp. They saw him convulse and even heard him speak in a tongue unfamiliar to them, his eyes having rolled back into his skull. To say they were trembling with fear was an understatement.

Had Hyrule's favored hero gone insane?

Link grasped the gloved hands at his shoulders, used them as support to catch the breath that had lost him. He dared not look up, afraid that his eyes would mirror the emotions that ran amok in his head. The hero _had_ done his dirty deeds, having to kill to save, but those fabrications… those illusions… he felt his skin crawl, his body tremble. Had he not seen his fair share of death? So much death… so much… he could build a endless wall with the amount of dead he had witnessed.

Then there was that lingering emotion, clinging to him like a newborn infant. It felt like someone was tickling the back of his head, like someone was whispering at his ear, and it made him shudder from what his struggling state of mind desired. Would it not be pleasurable to force his hand through the young soldier's flesh? Was it not comforting to feel the blood—the warmth—of the Hyrulean's insides?

"Are-Are you alright?"

He peered up against his dirty blond fringe. He was not, "I'm fine," all right.

So much death. _It was so beautiful._

"_End the darkness before it's too late."_

* * *

The coral room reeked of bodily fluid. It didn't seem to bother the inverted Link, his grin only widened as he twirled about in the stinking room. In fact, he reveled in it. Then again such actions were to be expected from a madman who held such delight to death and its signs. Nevertheless, he paused in his fit of twirls and giggles when he heard a shuddered breath. His boots scuffed the glistening floor that had been untainted, red eyes fell on the heap of flesh and bone. From here he could see the chest rise, struggled for breath.

Faster than expected…

The man wandered over to the healing carcass, stopped once to kick at the young man's boot. No response. He gave a growl, the sudden noise seemed to startle the labored breath of the young soldier, before he tangled his fingers into that corn-yellow hair and yanked Colin's head up to his gaze. Sky eyes were open but still glazed over and, for a moment, Link wondered if he was imagining things; however, the eyes moved. They trembled in place, stared at nothing and yet everything all at once. He tugged at the golden strands, earned a sharp breath from his victim. Sky eyes looked up then, the look of death still swam within pools of blue. Then emotion kicked in, fear tainted the glassy eyes as Colin looked into the depths of crimson.

Link dropped the man back down, existing smile nearly bubbled over with laughter, "I've surely created a monstrosity." It had taken him a moment to realize, once he met the boy's eyes, that the soldier wasn't going to fully heal. The damaged skin was still present and it still _reeked_. Though Colin did breathe it did not gift the body with complete life.

_Redead. _It was to be expected since Colin had _died_ by his hand, but still… such a thing was near impossible. Redeads were gluttonous bags of flesh that craved life, craved the flow of blood, and were created by that of Poes and curses. They were the undead. Perhaps the contents of his travelling pouch were a lot older than he had suspected…

* * *

_The thrones towered into the white void of a sky, reached so far up to the point where the backs of the magnificent chairs seemed to never end. Golden as they were, each surface glistened with a bit of "something." The appearances seemed to gain a sort of spirit within them for the first shifted with angry fires, the second shimmered like water, and the third moved like the leaves of a tree. Still, the chairs were gold._

_Perched atop each chair were three maidens that represented each confined spirit that flickered within those thrones, and only when the woman of fiery hair stood from her throne did the world of clouds erupt into a swarm of darkness. A stream of lightning clashed into one of the golden thrones and made the golden color tremble and the flickering spirits within vanish for a moment. "We _must _end this, sisters." The woman of fire, Din, wrapped her long, delicate fingers into fists. Her hair was alight with excitement, flames offered the only light to the stormy realm. "That abomination has messed with the soul of a child."_

_Farore, the green haired woman, nodded hesitantly but her worry was not directed to their impatient sister. Her eyes of coal looked onward to the woman of blue who had fallen back to her state of silent observation. Nayru wasn't very fond of outbursts and was undeniably against the realm changing so abruptly. Not just that, but the look on the blue maiden's face was something of intense revulsion. Perhaps it was toward the corruption of a Hyrulean child or perhaps it was annoyance toward Din, but either way Farore quickly stood from her throne and the realm itself shook with the additional intensity, "We cannot tamper with will, sister Din, we promised after we left the lands! Does our symbol of peace mean nothing to you," said Farore._

"_But this has gone too far, that abomination shouldn't even be alive in the first place. We should have allowed it to end during the Hero of Time's reign."_

"_Second chances. We must allow our children—"_

"_Such a disgusting word, dear sister. My child. My child? My… child," Din spit the very word as if it burned her white tongue, "That monster is no such thing to me. It is not from our hands. He is a mistake… _it _is a mistake."_

"_But _he _is only trying to find a place within our lands. He just seeks solitude, peace, and a people that hold no ill will to his likeliness. He seeks his own life, his own soul. He seeks our love too."_

"_Are you blind? Did you not just witness its villainous antics? It murdered an Ordonian child and contemplated on corrupting that soul with black magic."_

"_But he lost that ability besides it was a mistake! The faerie dust was aged and the bottles were perhaps even older. The medicine would not be able to bring someone back from the dead."_

"_It's because that thing wished it."_

"_But—"_

_Nayru stood, her sudden move to join them silenced the two bickering sisters. Her black eyes looked onto Farore, "Have you lost faith in our _creation _so easily?" She looked onto Din, "And you, have you forgotten our vow?"_

"_Our Hero is an endless vessel with a powerful soul. He is not to be taken lightly. Our vow is to not step into the mess of our children. Let them learn from their mistakes. We must not tamper with their fate or their will. We may only guide, but by suggestion and not by force. Yes, this is a disgrace, but we can only direct our attention to the Hero. Give him strength and courage," said Nayru._

"_But it still wants individuality. What if it gains that," questioned Din._

"_We can only wait and see, dear sister. If there comes a time where we must break our vows, then the Triforce itself will burn into ashes. We cannot allow such a thing to occur for it is the only protection that we left that would aid them in such dark times. We can only wait and see."_

* * *

The Hyrulean soldier paused at the large, oak door in a show of uncertainty. A day ago they had dragged Hyrule's beloved Hero within the safe confines of Elde Inn and hadn't seen or heard from the man since. Already the soldier's comrades were questioning the sanity of their Hero. Had he really taken a drink of the bloody water? A gloved hand hovered over the door and stayed there. Doubt and fear kept the young man from going in because if he did so then what would he find? Would he come across a madman or the Hero? Was there even a difference between the two? Surely there was for he hadn't heard of the glorious man falling to such crazy antics. Then again, what if the worries of his fellow men were right?

"M-Master Link?" He called instead and withdrew his arm.

He heard rustling, a thud, and a string of obscenities before the thick door before him was drawn back just enough for a head to poke through. The soldier nearly jumped in fright. The blond hair was a mess, the eyes were bloodshot, and the bags under the eyes suggested sleep deprivation. It wasn't the sight of a man's lack of sleep that was so troublesome, but it was more or less the look of death that clung to the Hero's flesh. Link looked more like a ghost than he did a Hylian. "Yes?"

"The men…" the soldier paused, looking over the Hero for a long moment, "we're just worried over your stability, Master. Are you well?

Link seemed to ponder that, eyes squinted in a comical portrayal of thought. Was he well? No, not entirely. He could still feel the heaviness of Eldin's presence on his mind. The very feeling sucked away all of his energy and aspiration. What's more, that twisted emotion that had clung to him still frolicked about in his thoughts. Even now as he stood before the soldier, he found himself questioning how the man would look covered in blood, drowned in darkness. It was rather terrifying and especially so when it still lingered as it did. It was bad enough that the feeling was evolving.

It seemed that confining himself only made his current state of mind worse. He had started to dig his nails into his palms or arms just to see the blood. Just to see the essence of life… _to make sure he was alive_.

"Honestly, I am well. There is no need to worry. As I said, I've never received such a personal contact from a light spirit. It was a bit of a shock. Even now I can feel the weight of Eldin's influence and… I'm just weary," Link finally answered. The man nodded slowly, but the concern did not waver.

"If there is anything you need, the men and I will be more than happy to help you in anyway."

_Could I see the face you make when you're dead?_

Link dug his nails into his right palm and put on a believable smile that contrasted his current self, "Thank you, I'll keep that in mind. Now if you'd excuse me, I think I'll try at sleeping once more. As I've said, I'm overly exhausted."

Without another word, Link turned from the soldier and slammed the door in his face. Sadly, sleep was far from what the hero would receive.

* * *

Dark Link looked on with a face saturated with mirth. In his opinion, the child was a masterpiece; however, this horror was something only a mother could love and love he did. It hadn't taken long for the boy's labored breath to fall to a normal level. Rather odd though, the undead had no need for breath, but perhaps the boy thought that he was still alive? Link hoped so, it would make things far more fascinating in his mundane world.

Leaning back on the mattress, he pondered his plan. Why did he even bother bringing a man back from the dead? Sure, it was entertaining to mess with the Hero, but could there be more for a villain to do with such a pawn? It wouldn't be hard to hide the rotted flesh thanks to Hyrulean armor and the smell could be disguised somehow—

He would have thought on the possibility of use for the soldier but a tug at his heart had him leaning over the bed, ready to vomit what little seaweed he had eaten for the day.

"Damn... what is this," he hissed as his breath picked up when the tug at his heart became a painful burn. It felt like icicles were being rammed through his chest, burning a cold hole through his heart. The inverted man clawed at the burning flesh, ripped his clothing at the very gesture as he threw up his stomach's contents.

_Sorrow. Pity. Fear. _It made him shiver as he fell back onto the mattress, the pain evolved and spread like wildfire. Such emotion was surely a weakness and it wasn't even his own so _why_? Where did these emotional fabrications come from because he sure as hell didn't conjure them up by himself?

His other half...

_That damned Lin—_

"_There can only be one." _That very statement impaled his mind, struck him with an abrupt wave of agonizing pain that curled its way into his head. It urged him into a fetal position, hands still clawed at his chest to the point where blood started to dot his shirt. It drove away his unnatural body temperature, made him shiver all the more as a cold, like death, settled into his very bones.

This wasn't his. This wasn't him. What was—

"_A shadow cannot live alongside reality." _There it was again, something foreign and painful. It pushed its way into his mind, peeled away at any rational thought, and burned its very meaning into his head. It reminded him of his misfortune, of the curse his life held. Thanks to the Hero's existence he was nothing. To humanity he was a lie, a disgrace. They only saw him as the dark Hero, they judged him for his being, and yet they knew not of his creation. They knew not of the child he had been before he saw darkness as his haven, his playground. They knew not his fascination for blood, the way it proved that he was real, alive. They knew nothing and for that they should die by drowning in their own blood and choking on their own flesh.

"_There can only be one."_


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 08 – Ripples  
**Music Suggestion: Can You Feel My Heart by Bring Me the Horizon

_"The state of your life is nothing more than a reflection of your state of mind."_

—Dr. Wayne W. Dyer

Sleep was far from the hero's mind as was food and any other human necessity that would drive him away from his diseased thoughts. Already his arms were littered with long, grotesque claw marks. Scratching one's flesh had been a lost habit and had usually occurred during anxiety and powerful bouts of stress, but the hero had grown out of that… _or so he thought_. Even now his dirty nails were encasing themselves in the flesh just above his elbow. The nails dug deep, but the hero's monotone expression never broke even when red trickled down to his lap.

_'Wouldn't it be great to kill them all? All those filthy bags of tissue that mistreat the title of the hero, aren't they better off dead? After all, they act like they had a part in the damned "Twilight War." They did nothing. They know nothing. Yet, they act like they aided Hyrule to her safety. They are weak, they are users and abusers, and all of them should drown in their own blood and choke on their own skin!' _

He banged the back of his head against the wooden walls, repeatedly, and dug the nails deeper into his arm. In his defense, he was using it as a tactic to reclaim sanity. Then again, nothing was sane about the voice that haunted him. Nothing.

The very voice mimicked his own, and when it spoke of gore, death, and hate it clung to a tone of pure ecstasy. It would have helped if the influence came and went at random intervals, but this voice was irritatingly constant. It acted as if it was his conscience, as if it had been there all along, and what scared the Ordonian man the most was… what if it was him conjuring up such twisted ideals?

Yes, the hero _had _killed, but all the deaths that trailed behind him were made to protect Hyrule and her people. It was for their benefit that he had dirtied his hands. None of his victims were innocent; however, he couldn't help but wonder if they indeed were. After all, Ganondorf and Zant had held a powerful control over their minions.

He banged the back of his head once more, the crooked picture frame above his head swaying from the vibrations.

_'They're so judgmental. They act like they know every shitty thing about me yet… they know nothing. They couldn't bear to know the troubles I've waded through, couldn't bare the sight of the monstrosities I've seen.' _It coiled around him with a burning heat, that voice. It brought up long forgotten memories, undesirable actions, and sorrowful feelings. With every word Link could feel his walls cracking and so his nails dug into the flesh as far as possible yet the pain did little to distract him. No, the nails in his arm only numbed the senses. It only added fuel to the fire.

_'They all deserve to die.'_

No. No. No. That wasn't true. His friends were a blessing, a gift. His journey was a worthy experience that he had felt honored to accomplish, sorrowful departing aside. His village—his family—was the only thing he had that was _his_. It wasn't given to him by the goddesses, wasn't given to him by the Royal Family, and it wasn't given to him as a reward for heroic deeds. It was his and his alone, something he had earned without supernatural aid.

Then again… his life had been far more peaceful before the journey. He had been forced into a world of twilight and had lost the innocence that he had taken for granted. His friends were different now and he was surely far from normal after having been ripped into that world of twisted forms and discolored darkness. He was no longer a young adult, but a man in a youthful body.

_'Someone, anyone, deserves to at least share the pain of the hero.' _He remained motionless, sapphire eyes staring onto nothing special as the words slipped out of his mouth like bile. It had taken him a breath, a blink of dazed eyes, to realize that it wasn't the voice haunting his thoughts… he had spoken aloud with his own voice, his own mouth. "Just one… just one…" His words fell to a crazed whisper, a sick shine of life returning to those eyes of blue.

Yes, it wouldn't hurt… wouldn't hurt…

He picked himself up off the floor, moving slowly as he did so, and set to moving to the door. When his hand did reach out to the thick mass of wood, the monotone façade cracked. A snowy smile trickled in place, the lips curving into a dangerous arch. His smile looked pure, in a twisted sense, but the curve of those lips showed something else… something sinister.

It wouldn't hurt. Just this once… just this once.

* * *

Bloodied eyes glowered at the corpse, confusion obscuring the usual grin that took its place on dark Link's lips. What in Farore's name was he thinking?

It had only been a few moments until the pain had slowly subsided; however, in its place was an untidy pile of useless emotions. Was he actually feeling guilt for his actions? Oh but using the shield to bash the child's head in had been fun; though, maybe he should have decapitated the child's head with the shield's ed—

_'But the boy is innocent. He doesn't deserve that. It is good that he is coming back to life, even partially.'_

He visibly cringed at that sweet voice that tickled the back of his head. It wasn't his own and he knew by the way it felt. The thought was heavy and airy and it reminded him of a disgustingly content child. It wasn't just that, his skin was crawling. The niceness of this voice was not his, it never had been.

_'Could have easily distracted the young man or dragged the Zora princess along.'_

Where was the fun in that?

_'He didn't deserve to die.'_

Link growled out a string of curses as he set his nails into the flesh just over his heart. Perhaps pain would bring him back to his senses or distract him from the repulsive morality that had begun to take form in his being. To his dismay, the pain was not felt and the very action only seemed to fuel the fire.

He felt guilt. He… felt apologetic. What of the boy's family? Yes, the child was being reanimated, but he was not _the child_. In a sense, he was being reborn. Had he, Link, taken an innocent life?

_'And what about all those other innocent lives that were wasted for useless hatred? Their downfall, their blood, and their mutilation did nothing to satiate the hunger. It did not feel the void of uselessness that the inversion was born with. No… it did not. It never did and never will.'_

But they judged him. All of them judged him. They saw him as a monster, they compared him to the hero, and they feared him. He was his own person. He was Link, but not the _hero_ Link.

_'That doesn't make sense. Childish denial.' _

No. No. No. No. His life revolved around hatred. His life revolved around the desire to be different. He had spent so many years, so many lifetimes trying to separate himself from the hero. He even tried to slice of his arm where the negative Triforce lived on his flesh.

_'Created in the hero's image. A reflection of the hero with a heart and mind of equal intensity. Alike. A pair. A reflection.'_

Now that was childish. Was this invading voice that of a true child's?

_'Nevertheless, the young soldier did not deserve to die. Such innocence… gone. Such promise… extinguished. His existence has been eradicated. Such sorrow. Such sorrow.'_

Without realizing, Link withdrew his fingers from his chest and brought up the pale digits to his face. What had he done? Why had he done it? Why… he blinked once, twice, and a third time in an attempt to regain composure. What was he doing?

_'Such innocence.'_

This wasn't… this wasn't him, was it? This heavy burden of emotion wasn't truly his, was it?

_'Such sorrow. Oh the guilt, too heavy to bare.'_

He felt his body tremble at the alien thoughts as they began to evolve. The voice twisted into his own, mimicking his own voice and forcing its desires onto him to the point that he lost his will. It drove him to the brink of despair as he felt the icy chill of a tear slip down his cheek. The tear burned for it was unnatural coming from him yet he didn't notice.

"I'm sorry." It was a whisper and one that the inverted hero was oblivious to because surely he, the fouled reflection, had not just apologized to an undead bag of flesh. Surely he wasn't going insane?

"I'm so sorry."

It wasn't the child's fault. The poor thing deserved to live. Oh how wretched he was!

* * *

His realm was clouded and heavy, fingers clinging to darkness as the invisible sludge beneath him continued to do away with what little life remained in his bones. It felt like a knife was being plunged into his chest, like claws were peeling at the skin, and then the aching pain that burned at his skull. Something like a hot metal that etched its form into the flesh.

Within this dark void he had reached up to his forehead and felt something warm and thick. _Blood? _He tasted it just to be sure and sure enough it was rusted copper—blood. Where had it come from? Why was he bleeding from his head? Why… his fingers wandered up to his head again to feel the source of bodily fluid.

He felt a gushy sort of warmth, slick to the touch, and then broken skin. He nearly threw up what little remained in his stomach.

What was happening? Where was he? Wait… he pulled his hands away at the sick realization.

Who was he? Did he have a name or was he a figment? Was he…

_"I've surely created a monstrosity."_

He looked up at that, a burst of light erupting above him like a heated flame. That voice… it gave him chills. He _knew_ that voice. It wasn't long term familiarity that touched him, but it was something like a recent memory, a second of conversation, that led him to recognize that voice.

_"Dear, are you sure you want to go through with this?" _Lifeless eyes of gray lit up at the additional voice that enraged his senses. This voice… now this was of nostalgia. This was comfort, elation, and warmth. _"Don't go into the army just because of Link. Be your own man." _He couldn't quite give a name or a face to the soft expression, but the one word that came to mind was motherly. This was a feminine voice with motherly affection.

A mother… did he have a mother?

_"Please be careful. I love you… Colin."_

He trembled at the name, his senses dying away like the motherly voice that left his thoughts. That warmth abandoned him then, leaving him cold. It left him to drown in solitude as his black world was eaten away by the light of white.

His name was… Colin. Colin. Colin was his name and he had been… murdered. Killed by a shield of a negative lookalike.

"I'm so sorry."

This voice was much louder and much closer than the previous voices that assaulted his emotions. It had an edge of darkness to it, but such a darkness was hard to read. This voice sounded sincere, remorseful, and _safe_. It was promising, powerful, and dominate. He wanted it. Needed it. Craved it. This speaker was to be trusted… be obeyed.

_Master._

* * *

The youthful hero had called a soldier to aid him down the stairs of Edle Inn. His excuse was the fatigue that still plagued him and it was partially true. Activity brought a nagging throb to his muscles, but such an unsatisfactory feeling did little to deter his intentions. That smile from before still lingered, like the residual heat from a freshly dowsed fire.

Being led into the back room by the kitchen, the soldier gently released his aiding grip from Link's arm and took to grabbing the nearest stool. "Are you feeling well, even a little?" By the man's voice Link could tell that it wasn't the one from earlier.

Allowing his smile to falter to a nonexistent state, he nodded almost solemnly. The gesture was somewhat pathetic and spoke otherwise. It requested pity, sympathy, and affection but once the gesture finished that smile plucked it from its post and took its place once more on his lips. "I will manage."

"Right, good." The man paused, shifting weight against the heavy armor that he still wore. The helmet was still in place as well. It was still ongoing, the process of finding bodies and setting them up to be burned and so there was little time to remove the exterior attire for comfort. "But, uh, the men and I were curious, what did the spirit say? I thought it could only contact shamans?"

"Oh, nothing in particular. It just showed me images of what happened, but I couldn't see the cause of it all." He felt his smile twitch at the lie, but his current mindset refused to allow him to right the wrong. His eyes wandered to the weaponized accessories attached to the soldier's hip. A knife, a sword, rope, and a satchel for herbs and bottles of medicine…

_'A rope to choke him, perhaps hang him from the banister. A knife to gut him, perhaps carve a picture in his chest. A sword to pierce through him, make dots around the heart.'_

The soldier turned then and the action was probably due to the fact that the hero's smile was unnerving him. It had taken the male a moment to find that that smile was a bit unsettling. There was something about it, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He had seen the hero smile before… but this wasn't _his _smile. It wasn't him. It was almost like…

It was someone else.

As he pondered over that considerable recognition, he failed to feel the rope on his belt be detached from its hook. However, when he felt a smack of flesh on either side of his helmet connect did he jerk backward. Whoever it was that touched his armored head removed the helmet with startling speed and the sudden freedom from that hot piece of armor confused him. "Master Li—" he had wanted to ask the hero the reason for his actions, but then the rope at his throat buried the words in a harsh breath.

His gloved hands flew to that sudden object of restriction and he pulled, skin already being cut by the rope's fine fibers. "Ma-Mast—" he thrashed with his words, mouth gaping open like a fish as he lurched to and fro in an effort to free himself from Link. Yet each twist and turn of his body only encouraged the rope to pull against him even tighter. Air was becoming scarce, it was a slow scorching trail that dragged its way down his throat to his struggling lungs.

Was he going to die? The fear thrust in and his body struggled even more, but the hero stayed with him.

"I want to see your face when you embrace death." Came the whisper at his ear. It made him shiver, made his remaining breath get stuck against the rope. That voice was not of the hero's tongue. No, it was much more sinister, dark.


	9. Chapter 9

**Edited 6/8/16**

* * *

**Chapter 09 – Fragments**

**" They can't break me… I'm already broken. "**

**-Anonymous**

* * *

It was rather exhilarating to hold a man's life by a rope. Albeit, the good Link found himself wishing for a blade or two so that he could watch the blood flow freely, but the gurgling sounds from the man was stimulating enough. The hero pulled at the ropes tighter, tighter, until the hint of suffocation was barely audible. All of it… the sound, the feel… he relished in it. His lips curled at the ends as he felt the soldier's struggle lessen. The very feel of it all reminded him of a moth stuck in a web.

The rope could not be pulled any tighter and the man had very little life remaining. Link could feel the last remnants of breath leave the soldier, could feel it through the subtle vibrations of the rope. Yes, yes! He could—

Never killed an ally before… The Hero blinked, smile faltered. That wasn't right, was it? He had killed before, many times. Without a doubt he had killed an innocent during one of his journ— All for the sake of survival.

Yes, but… a Hero,right? Heroes don't murder without reason. Heroes do the dirty work, but there is always a reason.

Murderer. What was he doing?

The soldier dropped to the floor and the rope fell with him. What had he done? Link stared, eyes flickered between the choice weapon, his victim, and his own hands that were red from the rope's coarse material. It took a moment to register that he had been so close to killing a true innocent. He fell to his knees then and let what he could only describe as shock take over because what met him was silence. There was no gasping, moaning, cursing, or breath. There was simply silence. Its very existence was loud and unforgiving. He wanted to vomit. Hesitant, he crawled over to the fallen soldier and drew a shaky hand toward the soldier's bare neck. Nothing but immobile flesh remained.

"What have I done," Link squeaked out his words as he withdrew his hand. His voice was still tainted with mirth over the very predicament and so he clamped a hand over his mouth as if the very action would hide away everything he had become within those mere seconds. The very question ran amok in his head as he tried to find a purpose for it all. What had he been thinking? Why?

A sound came from the archway of the kitchen and then a voice that brought his heart up into his throat, "Link?" Blue eyes looked up just in time to see the transition of confusion to realization.

Zelda, dressed in her usual attire of royalty with the addition of a brown travelling cloak, placed a gloveless hand over her mouth. Her eyes widened at the sight. Her Hero was bent over a soldier who still had the rope partially around his neck. She was surely seeing things. Perhaps she was jumping to conclusions. Link was never the type to kill haphazardly, even if angered. Besides, had her soldiers not informed her that her Hero was ill?

She carefully stepped into the room as if any abrupt movements would scare her Hero away. When she came to the body of the armored individual, she crouched down to check his pulse. It wasn't necessarily a surprise when she felt no signs of a heartbeat. Then slowly, cautiously, she outstretched her hand to Link's cheek. The man only flinched when her fingers trailed down his face.

His golden locks were unkempt and tangled, hiding one side of his ashen face. Her Hero's eyes weren't as blue as she remembered, weren't as vibrant. He looked so tired, so lost. From here she could see his body shaking like a leaf and see how his expression slipped. She hadn't seen a single tear from the Hero in years, but now here he was crying freely. The tears felt like ice when they touched her palm.

"I'm sorry." Zelda hadn't quite heard such a hopeless tone before when it came to the Link's usual self. It was weak, broken. If she had to put a name on such a voice she'd have to say… childish. Yes, like a child caught red-handed or a child who had lost its innocence.

His hand met hers awkwardly and he continued to spit out apology after apology like vomit. The princess didn't say a word as he did so for she figured silence was the best. To be honest she was trying to piece things together. She'd never seen her hero breakdown like this. She'd never seen him break.

When he leaned forward into her hand, she finally spoke, "What happened?" Yet all she got in return was apology after apology.

So then… her Hero had committed murder. Her eyes drifted to the corpse between them and even if the cold hard evidence was there, she could not bring herself to believe it. She placed her other hand against his other cheek and pulled him toward her so that their foreheads touched. Right away his mess of apologies faltered and faded into silence, but the tears still came. "It's all right," she whispered, but her eyes continued to rest on the body between them. It was not all right. It was far from all right. The Hero was not chosen for murder such as this. Nevertheless, she whispered it again and again until his cries became more audible, until the scent of death stained her clothes, "It's all right."

She didn't know any other way to calm the man. Ever since Twilight, he acted as her support, as her rock… in place of the emptiness that her father left. Now the roles were reversed, but she knew not on how to console another. Nothing but the word of law came to mind, but how could one sentence Hyrule's savior? How does one arrest a Hero? How does she arrest her friend?

Slowly, she pulled away but kept her hands on either side of his face as she said, "What happened? Please, tell me." The princess, the friend, had to know. She had to understand because to her it was impossible. Surely one of her soldiers didn't try to harm her tired, worn out Hero? Then again she would prefer that story rather than the idea of Link killing an innocent.

"I'm sorry," came the muffled reply.

"Did he try to harm you?"

"I'm sorry."

"Link, did he try to harm you?"

"So sorry."

"Or did you… kill him…"

Nothing but silence.

* * *

The inverted Link fell to his knees on the coral floor. What he considered to be madness—sympathy—was absent but in its wake he felt despair. It was odd, these sporadic, meaningless mood swings and thoughts, and for a moment, he relished in the very idea of insanity. Although that didn't quite make sense, but then again neither did his concept of normality.

Had he just felt the desire to hug the reviving corpse whose fingers were now curling around his leg? Possibly. Ruby eyes followed the jerked movements of the man beneath him. The scent of death was still evident, but sadly not as overbearing. He kicked the hand away, heard the subtle crack of bone and a rasped cry. The very sounds made him feel at ease… almost.

"The Hero must be suffering. Although it makes me all warm and fuzzy inside… I would rather enjoy his turmoil if it were by my hand." He tilted his head, eyes watched the carcass wallow as it slowly moved its hand to its chest. Then again perhaps the sporadic shift in personality was his doing? Link grinned at the thought. After all, the Hero wasn't used to such bloody sights like the one he had left in Kakariko Village.

Leaning forward, he grasped at bloodied, blond locks and jerked the deceased soldier's head up to view. The eyes were still blue, but there was the evident glaze of death that still lingered. This time, the eyes were focused and stared right at him but not a hint of fear affected the gaze. "Let's have some fun, shall we," Link said, letting his fingers slip, "let's test the theory of the Hero's turmoil, of the bond that we share." As he spoke jovially he sauntered to his blade, picked it up as if it were a delicate flower. Its face was splattered with blood but he licked the substance away as the man before him slowly rose to his feet. The movement was rusted and slow like that of an elderly man. Hopefully the warped individual would adapt and be able to move as if it were still alive and well. Hopefully, but either way a dead soul was a useful tool.

The soldier—Colin, wasn't it-looked an absolute mess. His attire was covered in bloodstains, blond hair stuck out in defiance to gravity, and one side of his head was slightly caved in. Somehow there was the stream of blood still dripping down one side of his face from the head wound. The spectacle was rather odd because the wound itself appeared to be healing despite the damaged flesh, vessels, and bone. The flesh was meshing over the mutilation slowly but surely. It looked like decayed meat. Rather unnatural but for a Redead it was something to be expected.

He circled his twisted creation, smiling at the horridness of the his newly recruited minion, "Let's start with the fishy king and his brat." At the very thought of King Ralis's offspring, Link grimaced. It had taken all he had to not snap her neck, to not decapitate her, or to not have her choke on her own blood. Now, he could finally do all those wonderful things that he had fantasized, in order. Without another word he dressed himself, moved around the room all the while as Colin remained as still as a statue. The sword and shield were the last to be taken before he headed to the outside world, dragging his creation along with him.

He'd never slaughtered a mass of fish before... Would the flesh separate differently on slimy scales? How would the blood flow? Would his blade dig through meat and bone easier than it did through human-like flesh, through the body of a Goron? That would be boring if that was the case. He was rather fond of feeling his blade dig through bodies. It made it more challenging, made him feel more alive, real.

* * *

The king of Zoras was looking over a series of mundane documents given to him by Hyrule's government when Link waltzed in with the Hyrulean messenger at the heel. He was alone for he trusted his people and those that visited his domain. Ralis looked up only once, not taking notice the abnormality that radiated from the pair that ascended to his coral throne. "I hope the both of you are finding everything well. I apologize if our hospitality seems to be lacking. My people and I are rather worried over Hyrule's current tragedy," he sighed as he continued where he had left off on a paper requesting the use of Zora military. The reply was silence. Ralis took that as a good thing, after all, his daughter was fond of helping others and making them feel welcomed. He smiled at the thought of her. She was very unlike him when he was her age. The Ralis then was much less bold, much less outgoing, and much less talkative.

He would have continued over such heartwarming thoughts if it were not for the blade that obscured his vision from the papers on hand. The king paused in his reading, big eyes looked up into nothing but crimson. The lookalike Hero leaned forward, a hand rested somewhere by king Ralis's triangular head as he withdrew the tarnished sword from its freshly made home. It sounded wet and sloppy when the sword was removed, like a child flopping their hand in the water, and when it drew away did the red waters run.

The Zora's mouth opened, eyes widened as far as his facial features would allow, but nothing but silence came from his vocal chords. Then the sword ate through his flesh for the second, the third, the fourth time. It slipped in with incredible ease, the blade having very little trouble making its way through rough yet slimy scales. Nevertheless, Link found it frustrating. He preferred human-like skin after all. Then again, it was fun making a gaping hole of flesh and intestines where his stomach resided. The look of fear also made it more enjoyable, but then again that always made him smile.

After the seventh withdrawal of the blade he retreated a step to admire his handiwork. Ralis immediately leaned forward, the blade no longer pinned him between the throne and his murderer. The very action drove the meat within him to spill, his blood dripping like rainfall down naked skin. It was truly a lovely sight, especially when the string of meat unraveled itself from within the stomach.

"F-Father? Father!" Link turned then, brought the blade to his face as his sinister grin grew. The ends of his lips curled as the child of Ralis stumbled into the throne room and fell to her knees at the very sight. Her cries were similar to what Link considered as music. Even her curses... beautiful. "What have you done?" She wailed in that annoying voice of hers. Her webbed hands were clenched tightly by her sides as she glared at the visitor of the Zoras. The very sight of him made her stomach turn. He looked so much like the Hero… and yet...

The man only hummed a note as he walked slowly toward her. All the while she continued to scream curses at him, all the while she continued to question his actions. It was a shame that she didn't run. When he was directly in front of her, he crouched to the floor and her curses died away into chilling silence. Her eyes were lost in the crimson of his gaze, lost in the white smile that spun around his mouth.

Her death-it happened slowly. She felt the blade at her neck. She felt it slip through her skin, and she saw the world tilt. The pain was subtle at first, but when the realization came to her, it was far too late to react. Her mouth barely had time to open and force out a scream right before the spine cracked in two. When the blade met the other side of her neck she felt the absence of precious air and a loss of voice. The fear was overwhelming and at first she suspected it to all be a simple, gruesome nightmare, but when she felt one side of her head connect with the slick floor and when she saw her body still sitting on its knees... she saw reality. All the while her vision began to blur as her eyes fell to the forming puddle at her temple. She could taste her own blood. All the while she allowed her love for Hyrule's Hero to expire. The love was replaced with hatred. She hated the Hero... this lookalike.

The blood that fell freely slipped down the throne room and into the central water of the domain. Once crystal clear waters were now murky and red. It was almost like the water itself was dying. Every drop that made its way darkened the watery depths until the water itself became black and thick.

The red waters ran.


	10. Chapter 10

**Edited 6/8/16, thankfully I'm catching up to where I made less mistakes in stuff... guess we shall see.**

**Remember, the Links have a budding connection between each other now thanks to Eldin. Our Hero is weak minded at the moment and so it makes for easy prey for Dark Link's warped mindset to influence him. He cannot defend himself thanks to this as it won't allow him to speak for himself (as you will see in this chapter). Not to worry though, he'll get his say in the next chapter.**

**I've been editing like crazy and have forgotten to thank Nothin'Fancy, my original Beta Reader. This Chapter would have not been up and running when it was first written if it wasn't for her!**

* * *

Chapter 10 – Rule

Music Suggestion: _Everybody Wants to Rule_ by Lorde

" Do I mean nothing, another angry voice?

Did I even have a choice? "

Crown the Empire's _Johnny Ringo_

* * *

He struggled underneath the weight of the chains, damp skin slipped on wet stone, as his dirty nails dug into the bread before him. It was dry and rough… perhaps leftovers, but he ate it anyways because the pain in his gut was far too much to bear. All the while he cried, almost drowned in the dough and salty tears. He didn't cry from hunger, from fear of the dark, from his predicament, but he cried because he ate with his hands. His hands were surely stained with innocent blood. Come to think of it… he could still feel the burns from the rope, could still feel that youth struggling underneath him, and sickeningly, he could still feel that hungry pleasure he'd unconsciously felt as the soldier's life ebbed.

The bread dropped to the grime covered floor as his hunger devolved into despair. Perhaps death by starvation would atone for his sin. A Hero cannot kill an innocent. A Hero cannot commit such sins without purpose, without directive. Yet here he was, wallowing in fecal matter, decayed rats, and stink of the Hyrulean prison. A Hero would not end up in a hellhole like this one. He was no Hero.

_Maybe you never were one, a Hero._

Link wailed, his voice cracked at the octave he reached. Nails dug into filthy flesh until his blood mixed into the tears. All he knew, all he'd ever known, was to save, to act, to do what no man could; be _the_ Hero. It was his life, his meaning of existence. Without the title or action of Hero then what was he? Worthless? Pitiable? _Broken_?

_You're nothing then, right? Zelda made that painfully clear. _At the very thought of his friend, his body trembled. To be truthful, she hadn't betrayed him in anyway. She was merely doing her job as her royal position demanded of her. After all, even heroes couldn't be pardoned for murder. Of course, right when his victim was discovered by the other soldiers, he ascended to the list of suspects for the Kakariko massacre. He did wield a blade professionally and he did travel on his own accord despite his rank as one of Hyrule's knights. His whereabouts were unknown most of the time due to such travel and he tended to keep to himself.

Hyrule's children jumped at the idea to finally blame someone for the death of a village, Hero or not; their fear was too overpowering to outweigh reason. Funny how his glorious, heroic deeds could be so easily forgotten because of a bit of panic. With such an accusation over his head, Zelda could do nothing but oblige the demands of her people. Then again, maybe she thought he did such horrid acts as well. He had seen the look on her face when she continued to question him and when he continued to answer with silence. He had watched it evolve from disappointment to horror. Those eyes of hers had even widened when he finally moved and reached for her, desiring a hug—security. She had been afraid of him then.

One side of his face squashed against the cold floor as he continued to wallow in misery. He had lost count of the days and nights he had spent here, in this cell, but it was enough for him to question his sanity. If he had murdered that soldier… had he murdered the people of Kakariko?

"_Let the red waters run."_

Link blinked at the intrusive thought. It was out of place, and out of every other thought, it was devoid of emotion. It wasn't his but it was familiar. It's almost as if…

"_Slowly but surely everything is ending… not even light… this world is not fit for _two _ascending."_

He sat up, despite the loud clack of heavy chains, as Eldin's twisted words took place over his own mind. Link wasn't very good with riddles, especially when a spirit conjured them up, but Eldin spoke of two individuals. They could not live because "one must die and the other be living." So then…

_Yes, keep hoping on all hope. Keep praying for innocence. _With that single, dreadful thought, Eldin's words slipped away. Link didn't even suspect it, the fact that that single thought was not from _him_ but from that malevolent side he had allowed to take over. Perhaps he had become too used to it. Being chained to the floor in a dark room tended to do that to those that pined for innocence.

"_It will surely paint Hyrule with blood… not even light… not even light…"_

* * *

The foul blade dug through flesh, greedily pulled a stomach's contents apart. The water of the Zoras was black and thick with death and soon it would taint all of Hyrule. It made the inverted Link want to giggle. In fact, when he pulled his beloved sword out of yet another fishy carcass, he did giggle. His sword was painted with blood to the point where not even the sun overhead could touch it. He couldn't even see his blood splattered face or the way his black tunic looked almost of deep purple due to the amount of blood it had drank.

Though he was covered in blood from head to toe, his appearance was not as amusing as his newly made minion's attire. The soldier—Colin—looked as if he had been birthed by the bodily fluid. His blond roots were tinted with pink, white flesh painted red, and his clothes dripped from the fresh substance. The only thing untouched were his eyes of dead blue. White was more dominant in his gaze now and it made it appear as if he had a thick, cloudy film over his irises.

It had taken a little cursing and abusing until the dead soldier had obeyed Link's demands. It had taken twelve brutal deaths of Zoras to rouse Colin's interest in joining. When he did join, it made the massacre all the more fun. Unlike Link who wielded his blade, the man used his hands and ripped flesh, pulled appendages, and gouged out eyes. Odd, he had never thought that having another bring additional screams to his ears would make it so much more enjoyable. It made him realize just how lonely and cursed he was. He wasn't _him_ after all, the one always surrounded by life, but he was the Hero… in a twisted way.

Link growled audibly at the agitating fact. Lately that very fact seemed to like reminding him of his worth. With the Hero alive and well, he was nothing. That didn't mean he was childish, killing madly in an effort for attention… no. That's not why he killed. He killed because it made him feel alive.

Farore, was he messed up.

He turned away from one of the freshly mutilated carcasses to search the diseased waters for the shrine of Zoras. If he remembered correctly, Hylia Lake was considered a province in Hyrule; therefore, it was watched and protected by a spirit of magnificent light and purity. He wanted to extinguish such "beauty," but first he wondered if it would aid him with his innermost desires.

His reddened gaze settled on protruding rock far off to his right. He had crossed every inch of the Zoras' lake, but hadn't yet ventured over there. Red water licked at their boots, its movement reminded Link of a blade digging through damp flesh. He only threw a glance over his shoulder to gesture for the dead man to follow as he moved toward the bridges that floated lazily atop the waters. The bridge shifted uneasily underneath the sudden addition of weight, but remained afloat as the pair ventured across to the temple of the snake.

Right away, Link could feel the remaining purity. It felt much like an itch and with each step it seemed to evolve into a burn. Without a doubt the snake had acknowledged its province's demise and was trying its hardest to protect what was left of its land. This appeared true when that very feeling of a burn gradually gathered within Link's head, and with every step he took it grew tenfold.

"_I will rip you apart." _He paused mid-stride, eyes widened at the string of words that took shape within him. Of course, such a statement wasn't surprising when it came from him, but this particular string of words was not _his_. "_I will cleanse my waters with your blood." _No, it sounded much too _bright_ to be his.

The temple stood before him, encased by slabs of rock that hid what waited within. The stream of magnificent light that filtered through the cavern's mouth was a dead giveaway, the spirit was waiting with open arms and hidden fangs. Then again, he had already come to that conclusion when the vile creature trespassed his mind. With a thin smile cascaded over reddened lips, he passed the twin snakehead statues that stood guard by the entrance. As he passed, their stone-gray markings flashed with a superlative blue light in warning, but he continued onward while the idle minion stayed behind, not yet dark enough to kill _true_ light.

It was a short passage, the path that led to the giant pool of untouched waters. The cavern itself opened wide, expanded into a gigantic circle that enclosed a single spring. He looked overhead as his dirtied boots wandered to the overhanging cliff that overlooked the waters. Above, sunlight peered through an oversized hole that had made homage in the rock. Its rays shimmered on the perfect surface of Lanayru's abode as well as the multitude of stone snakeheads that were birthed from the rocky, vine infested facades. If Link didn't hold such sickening fascinations he would have almost deemed the shrine as peaceful, but instead he found it disgusting. There was no carnage to be seen. He would rectify that.

He stopped at the edge of the cliff and looked down to pond below. His reflection stared back silently, and, for a moment, he wondered if his very presence had scared the spirit off but then the pond shook. Ripples shattered the reflection first, erupted the surface with boiling waves, and then the clearness of the water bubbled into a fine, silken gold. Its transformation was abrupt and as was the burst of light that followed at the center of the pond. The gold birthed an orb of radiant light that stung crimson eyes. The orb dripped gold as it shot upward, as if propelled by a slingshot, and beneath it the body of a glistening snake circled within the wakened waters.

The snake shot upward with the speed of an arrow, catching the dripping orb between its crystal jaws only to land back into the water with a piercing screech. It circled in the watery depths again before it jumped up from its security to face the vile soul that had dared to desecrate its land. Its body shimmered like a crystal held to the sun as its head hovered just inches from the cliff and from Link. Link had to take a step back, the light to pure for him to handle, as he looked on with an uncanny leer.

"_How dare you take advantage of _my _children! How dare you taint _my _waters!" _Its mouth did not move yet with each word the light between its fangs pulsed with a pristine glow of white. Its voice resounded like cracks forming in thick glass.

He stared into colorless eyes—the only part of the snake that did not tremble with light and color—and rolled his shoulders back, "But the waters look much more appealing, more welcoming, now. Isn't red more beautiful than blue?"

The snake lunged forward, but Link easily stepped back. A light spirit could only stray so far from their shine and the snake was no exception. If Link were to leave the cave, it could not follow. "_You contemptible monster, your life was not meant to be lived! A mistake, an error, a _shadow_! Pray tell, what do you hope to achieve from such ingenuous endeavors? Manslaughter, the bathing in the blood, will get your existence nowhere."_

What did he hope to gain? Was the answer that farfetched, unrealistic?

"_Your existence is a mere discoloration. Such scandal, why my mothers ever permitted you continued breath is beyond my capable knowledge. There can only be one Hero and you, petty shadow, are _not _the Hero."_

Link stepped forward then, his smile having gained length as it entwined about his face, and ignored the burn that settled on his skin from the snake's glow. The snowy fingers that gripped the hilt of his blade tightened as he felt the uncontrollable urge to laugh. Laugh he did, hysterically. It sounded incredibly mad. His head fell back as he laughed, body shook from the vocal strain. The snake, in turn, retreated an inch or so from the shadow for the sudden display was… unexpected, to say the least.

When the giddy laughter was said and done, his head leisurely lowered to eye the spirit. His smile was still as perverse as ever and a fit of giggles still seeped out as he said, "Not for long."

The snake shot backwards in its confinement in an effort to dodge the begrimed blade. Its body hit the cavern wall, the shrine trembled, and it screeched, "_I will snuff the imperfection myself!"_ It snapped forward in a counterattack, the orb between its teeth dropping to the deepest part of the golden waters beneath it, and its piercing fangs met bloodied metal.

Sparks burst out from the contact of metal and fang and the duo pulled away from each other only to strike again. Each time the snake tried to take a bite, Link would block those deadly fangs with his sword. He angled it just right so that the top of the sword smacked into the front of the set of teeth. Hacking away at the snake would do him no good, it was the orb that he needed to stab or even touch. Any contact from his being would strangle the light, would strangle the snake. He pushed forward, shoved the snake backward with a swing of metal to fang for the third time, and attempted to make a run to the cliff's edge, but again he was met with the snake's glistening weapons.

It pushed forward then and opened its jaws to accept the blade. The metal touched holiness, refracted the color of blood from the blade onto the cave walls. The colors of the snake's iridescent scales bled to white from the contact, but it paid no mind to the taint that covered the insides of its mouth like poison. Instead, its fangs hungrily reached for Link's flesh. He drew back, skin burned from the closeness of purity, but when his gaze wandered over to the cliff's edge yet again… his smile returned.

The inverted hero drove headlong into the snake, fangs ripping deep into flesh and cloth as he did so. His sword went straight through its ghostly mouth to its face, and rich, golden fluid cascaded down corrupted steel as if the snake itself bled authentic gold. In response, Lanayru snapped its fangs and caught a full arm of flesh. Link bit into his lip to silence the scream that wanted to bubble out from his mouth for when the fangs pierced skin and grazed the bone, his skin turned black as if the perfection burnt. It felt like a flame had settled within his nerves, like a fire was eating away at his insides. Perhaps it was because he himself was now "tainted" in a sense, just as the snake for the whiteness was slowly progressing down one side of its magnificent, beastly face.

Lanayru only withdrew its hold when a black pigment crept up its fangs, advancing just as slowly as the white. When it did, Link took his chance and charged forward with sword still in hand. For once he found himself thanking the Goddesses as he reached the cliff's edge and jumped. He was the negative Hero and wielded a sword with his right hand. If he _were_ the Hero-a left handed swordsman- then the fangs would have rendered him useless.

His left arm flailed unwillingly as he dove toward the purified waters of Lanayru, that familiar, twisted smile taking refuge on his lips despite the agony that clawed its way through his body. The snake above screamed in desperation, its voice shook the shrine and caused the pond to shudder in fear. It dove down in chase, screeched like a mad man all the while.

The water of a spirit was powerful as well as harmful. To a being of light, it healed; however, to a being of dark, it killed. Link submerged into the waters and instantly felt his skin _melt_ and blacken. The progression was much faster, much more aggressive. He had to tighten the grip on his blade in desperation as his body struggled to comprehend and obey his desires. Within the golden liquid he blindly reached out, red eyes unable to look within the depths for fear of permanent blindness. The tips of his fingers searched for the warmth that radiated somewhere before him, his body searched for the source of light that seeped through his eyelids.

The snake darted through the waters easily and quickly, ripped through it like tissue paper as its jaws opened wide to devour the darkened soul. Such an act-to devour something so foul-would surely end its existence, but it would only mean the destruction of an abomination. Such a sacrifice was surely the desire of the Goddesses; however, the spirit was far too late. Its fangs barely stuck Link's boot before his fingers brushed against the divine orb. Just a brush of sinful skin was all it took.

Within the breath of a second, the orb turned black and rotten. Its glory turned sour and molded, black instead of radiant gold took shape. Its beautiful drip of gold substance turned to blood and the very change diseased the waters that confined it. Then its temperature fell. It was no longer warm, no longer beautiful, and no longer worthy.

The white grew at a much faster pace, eating away at the snake as its fangs dug into a leg. For a moment it hissed out in victory, but then the white smothered out all wonders and it followed suit. Its appearance became black and hideous, burnt and shriveled. Its body writhed as its magnificent length shrunk and twisted. Its body became solidified as its width became less and less to the point where it erupted with a bone-chilling screech. Black bits and blood added to the sick water.

The water's forced change of alignment made it manageable, but the wounds were aggravated. Link pulled himself up, rolled out of the spring as best he could without arousing the broken skin. The attempt gained no fruition and instead it bit at his flesh and forced a cry out of him as his body came to a stop.

Finally, he let go of his sword. His fingers cracked at the movement but obliged nonetheless. Hesitant, he brought his left hand up to his face only to see the blackness painted over what used to be snowy skin. Just the sight of it made him wince for it—the blackened flesh—was bubbling and oozing, festering. Goddesses, it smelled. It smelled of rotten meat.

Link stared at his hand, emotionless, but then... he giggled. Though his laughter brought no smile, he laughed as he always did. His hand dropped to the grass and he laughed. It was just so hilarious, so wonderful, so… _refreshing_. He hadn't felt pain in a while, he hadn't felt the fear of death in a while. He hadn't felt so alive.

* * *

She read over the doctrine again for the seventh time. The words were already burned into her memory but she looked on with desperation, hoped to the Goddesses that what she was reading was false. Perhaps she was exhausted, perhaps she was still frazzled by the very act she had committed against her friend-the only man she would trust with her life. Nevertheless, the inked truth on parchment did not falter. Surely she was imagining things yet she gave up on the urge to read again, and instead she set it down along with all of her other doctrines and political requests.

The princess rubbed heatedly at her temples, cursed under her breath. She had requested a meeting with her father, but the aged king did not grant her wisdom. Instead, he told her to follow her people's desires even if she herself was against it.

She leaned back within the chair, deep in thought. Her heart was persistent in denying that the hero would do such a deed as murdering every denizen in Kakariko, but her mind was against her. The people of Hyrule- her people-were in a panic over the news of such a loss and she _had seen _her Hero make a very unwise and odd decision. He'd killed an innocent man and she had even heard that he had taken a drink from the bloodied spring of Eldin. He even apologized for his bad deed, profusely. Therefore, he must've done such crimes… right? Link was an expert swordsman, better than any of her soldiers, so the use of a blade against an individual would not be very troublesome. It was only logical.

Yet her thoughts wandered back to that message, that bearer of bad news. Just a mere glance at it made her doubt, but the doubt was not enough to summon her father and request Link's freedom. A criminal-Hero or not-needed to be punished. Even if that punishment was death, it was only fair. It was only justice.

She would have continued to build herself up, to convince herself that confining her friend to the death sentence was the appropriate measurement, but then the knock at the door interrupted such a practice. "M'lady," the voice reached through the thick, wooden doors of her chambers. "I've news, bad news at that. M'lady," the tone was rather impatient and at first she thought to scold whoever it was that dared interrupt her, but then she caught the fear and uncertainty that followed those words.

As quick as one could in heavy skirts, the princess rose from her chair and briskly headed to the door. All the while, the messenger knocked, his voice became much more urgent and much more impatient. When she did open the door, she immediately regretted it.

The boy, a young soldier that looked to be around her age, held a look of distress that shone brightly upon blue eyes that reminded her a lot of Link's own pair of azure eyes. His armored helmet was off yet he still wore the attire of Hyrule's soldiers. She was rather glad for that because otherwise she would focus on the soldier's similar eyes rather than the black mop that fell from the top of his head. "M'lady, it's terrible. Lake Hylia… the Zoras… it's all gone. They're all _dead_."

* * *

The chained hero fell to the filth covered floor, his body instinctively curled up when a boot connected with his ribcage. He felt the bones shift, felt them crack underneath the blow, but he dared not cry out. Instead, Link bit down on his lip until blood added to the stink beneath him. He was beginning to hate the taste of blood. It made him doubt.

A bare hand intertwined with his dirtied locks and jerked him upward, roughly. He made no sound and this time he did not open his eyes to look upon his attackers. Why should he even bother to look upon those who looked down on him with hatred? _You should just kill them. They jump so fast to blame their beloved Hero… all the risks you took… for nothing. All forgotten._

"Some hero you are." He flinched at the hate that oozed from that unfamiliar voice.

"Why'd you kill all those people in Kakariko? You almost eradicated the whole Zora population!" An additional voice resounded in the small cell and its volume bothered his ears. Ever since they, his guards of three, had waltzed in he had heard the very same thing over and over. They seemed displeased with any answer he gave them, and this was especially true if he replied with denial so he remained silent. Somewhere along the questioning, it became violent. His ribs were probably broken and his arm was likely bruised and swollen.

A part of him understood the men's reasoning, they were afraid and with fear comes violence. Such a thing wasn't always true, but in this case… how very right it was. Fear brought out the worst in people. He found himself experiencing the very same thing. Ever since he had suffocated the soldier, he had found his thoughts a mess. His heart was pulled in both directions. He either wanted to relive such a moment or be killed because his actions were completely vile and unlike a Chosen Hero.

_Hero this, Hero that. Just kill them. Celebrate freedom by strangling them. It's much more enjoyable with rusted chains rather than a measly rope. _It worried him how wonderful that was beginning to sound, especially when he felt a meaty fist dig into his gut.

"Did you seriously think you could get away with it," Said the first voice.

No. He didn't do… _Yes, I did. _

"This is pointless. The princess's plea of innocence is going on deaf ears. He hasn't even spoken a word," A newer, older voice said. At the mention of Zelda, _his _Zelda, he cringed. He'd been too caught up in his troubled thoughts, too caught up in the pain and despair, to remember that the guards did not only come to cause pain, but also to receive his side of the story. However, their Hero remained mute on the subject and would speak of it to no one. They deemed it as guilt, but truthfully he could not speak. The words would not spill from his mouth. It could be the doubt that tied him down because a part of him _believed _it to be true. He did murder those in Kakariko and, if he had heard the guards correctly, in Lake Hylia.

When they were met with continuous silence, the guards gave up on that bit of hope that they had clung to, and fell upon the _dead _Hero with a vengeance. They were fearful, childish and no matter how much Link may have saved them… fear shrouded over all truth or fact. Fear rules everything, and it controlled the very essence of a person. It drove the guards to draw blood from the man that writhed beneath them, and it drove them to splatter the dirtied walls with the crimson drops until exhaustion overtook them. When they finally freed the rejected Hero, they left their hope at his feet. For his silence and their fear had burned the assumption of his crime into an unreputable fact.

Yet as he watched them leave, as he felt his own hope wither, he heard a heavenly, familiar voice. It came from the cell's door and the sound of it gave him the feeling of a breath of fresh air. The husk form of his hope desperately reached out toward the sound, craved a reason to keep living in his heart.

"Where's Link's cell?" His pointed ears barely caught the disgruntled response from one of the guards. He struggled onto his knees right as the footfalls reverberated within the prison halls.

He heard her voice before he saw her beautiful face. She was in her usual, royal attire and at first peeked at him through barred door. When the door did open, slowly, squeaking much louder than it had before in protest, he was met with absence. The smile that he cherished was gone from her face and there was no familiarity, no friendliness in her features as she hesitantly wandered into the confinement. She even dared to give him a look of disgust, eyes roved around the filth, wet bread, and blood.

"Link, the people of Hyrule want you to be hanged for your _sin_." He cringed at her voice. It was not his Zelda, this was _the princess_. She spoke briskly and monotonously when she dealt with business, and the fact that he recognized her tone as such pained him. He needed a friend-he needed someone, anyone-because the thoughts, the turmoil, were becoming too much to handle. He could feel himself gradually fading, becoming something even he despised. Was it too much to ask for someone to save him this time? Didn't he deserve salvation as much as those who were screaming for his demise?

When he failed to speak, she stepped toward him. The Hero, in response, shifted back. His chains dragged on stone. "I would like to believe that the young man had tried to harm you, but according to his fellow comrades, he couldn't even harm a fly on the battlefield. So," the hem of her skirts were becoming dirtied as she crouched to his level, her face a mere inch from his, "let me be clear, did you kill all those people in Kakariko? Hylia is unlikely, but you are the only professional swordsman in Hyrule… that we know of."

He only stared, blue eyes trembling. A part of him knew that he did not commit such crimes, _clearly_, but another part of him wanted to admit such vile deeds. A part of him wanted to relish in the very idea of it and even wallow in the jealousy that he hadn't been the culprit. Nevertheless, he would have gladly answered her, but he only found himself tearing up once more. His lips would not work and his mind was a mess. He _needed _his Zelda, not this royal statue that she became when she dealed with politics.

"Did you do it? Did you have help? Link, answer me. If you don't take a side then I will have no choice but to give the people what they want." His tears seemed to vanish at that moment, eyes widened at her words. Was his fate decided so quickly? Were his journeys and good deeds all for nothing because of one hiccup? Yes, it was murder, but weren't criminals given a second chance? He'd seen many a convicted murderer walk free… so why not for him, a proclaimed _Hero?_ Where was his forgiveness? He was already in custody when the bloody waters were discovered in Hylia. Just a bit of fear was all it took.

"Link."

"I'm sorry," he muttered. The word came out like a breath of air, but when he tried to continue, that breath got caught in his throat. He'd discovered a while ago that he could only spit out apologies and nothing more. He heard her sigh, but just to spite her he repeated his apology. However, this was different. He wasn't sorry for the innocent death, but he was sorry that he had lost hope. Why had he even bothered to save such childish souls? He should have saved himself. "I'm sorry."

The princess's royal facade did not break even as she straightened. She dusted her skirts off, ignored the blood and dirt that clung to the hem, and turned. She paused only once as if to give the believed criminal a second chance. Even if she spoke reason, that Link could not have killed the Zoras, her people would still place the death toll on their Hero's head. When she was met with a continuous stream of apologies, she left. She left the prison, left the crowd that was rioting in the halls, and the left the crowd's hatred as she picked up her pace.

Zelda ran to her room, ignored the startled guards at her doors, and cried. It had taken all she had to not hug him. It had taken all she had to hold up her head and attempt to interrogate him. She wanted to yell at him, curse him. Surely, surely he hadn't done it, but… she had little to no proof, he would not speak on the matter, and all of Hyrule demanded a hanging. The blame had to go somewhere, the fear had to stop somehow.

Gravely, she walked to her oak desk and picked up the quill that rested over the doctrine. Her fingers shook and it caused her signature to appear jagged and thick. All the while, she had to remind herself that she was simply doing what was necessary. Murder, for anyone, was a crime and thus punishment was a necessity. Yet… she fell onto the desk chair and wailed. Her body shook violently, fingers still clutched the quill for dear life as she etched the lines of her family line over her signature.

The Hero was, in a sense, dead to Hyrule even before the princess signed the doctrine. As word got out of the royal family's agreement to punish the murderer, the children sang.

_What will we do with the broken Hero? What will we do with the broken Hero? Slice his throat with a rusty cleaver, stuff him in the sack and throw him over, hang him by the neck and watch him quiver. Hang him by the neck and watch him quiver!_ _Way hey and up he rises, early in the morning. Hing, hang, hung… see what the hangman done. Hung, hang, hing… see the murderer swing! And way hey and up he rises, early in the morning._


	11. Chapter 11

**Edited 6/8/16**

* * *

Chapter 12 - Hangman

_Music Suggestion: _iNSaNiTY by Circus-P

" _They say you die twice…_

_Once when you take your final breath,_

_And again when someone says your name for the last time. "_

_-Bansky_

* * *

The Hero recoiled at the sunlight, its warmth and brightness seared his dull eyes. It burned, and for once, he found himself preferring the comfort of darkness over the light. Yet as he backed up, heavy shackles slipping over sickly skin, a Hyrulean soldier shoved him forward and away from the prison's abyss. He stumbled, body still unhealed from previous, failed interrogations, but reluctantly obliged.

It had been twenty suns since the day of his arrest; however, he could have slept through a day or two. The light was little to nothing within his prison walls. Either way, it had been enough time to make him become accustomed to the filth and lack of light and warmth. The filth clung to him, mimicked a second layer of skin. It made his skin appear gray and his golden locks look browned and greasy. He needed a bath, but such a simple luxury was forbidden when one was deemed a criminal. The very word made him shudder. It was eerily comical how things could turn on one such as himself so easily.

His eyes-the very blues milked of their radiant youth and happiness-stuck to the ground beneath him as he shuffled. He didn't need to look up and even if he did, he would never desire to do so. _Never again_… Nevertheless, he felt heavy hands grasp his shoulders and force him down on his knees, an additional hand tangled in his dirty locks and jerked his head upward. His eyes met that of the princess. His mind would only see her as such, the princess, and nothing more. Despite this, he found his gaze searching over her pristine features. Her porcelain skin remained monotonously political. There was no remorse, no hope, no sign of his friend in the princess's features, in her eyes, in her lips… yet he searched, desperate for some comfort. He wouldn't mind that bit of light.

The princess averted her gaze and the Hero closed his eyes. It was a simple gesture and perhaps one with no hidden meaning, but for Link, her aversion meant so much. Years of friendship and this was how it ended?

"By the order of the royal family of Hyrule, I hereby sentence you, Link, to death for one count of mass homicide." Link bit into his tongue, fought back the urge to cry, to scream, to curse. He hadn't spoken a word of the Kakariko massacre-not that he could, his lips still refused to move on the subject-and yet everyone jumped to conclusions. However, the royal family refused to pin the murder of the Zoras on him for there were no connections. That very decision infuriated the people. It fueled their fear even more.

"May the Goddesses have mercy on you." Her voice sounded so hollow, so formal. It had been so for so long that he couldn't conjure up the sweetness that used to line her words. Would there ever be a time he could hear that honey-like sound again?

She raised her head, a gesture for the men to lift the Hero up and propel him to the castle courtyard gates. There, the people of Hyrule waited. When the obsidian gates opened, they assaulted the Hero with curses. They spit on his existence and deeds and cheered for his death. To them this was all a show, a sport. Hangings were uncommon in Hyrule. Murder was uncommon. Yet he heard nothing as the soldiers surrounded him to keep the angry Hyruleans at bay, nothing but the voice that corroded him further.

_This is what you get for being a _Hero_, Link. You are used, abused, and abandoned. This is what you get._

* * *

Although he fancied the sight of reddened waters, he did find it a shame. Link's clothes had dried from the gaze of the sun and were now stiff and coarse. If he were to bathe in the red waters then it would only make the tunic, breeches, and boots much worse than they already were. Then again, he didn't mind it. What he minded was his once pristine flesh. It was spotted with black now, maded him appear like a Dalmatian, from the corruption of Lanayru. Even now, after an hour's passing, it oozed and bubbled, like some nightmarish disease or festered growth.

As he trudged on, not even bothering to check on the man that limped behind him, he felt the telltale of life bite into his being. The festered black stung and his muscles were burning from previous, violent activities. It made him smile. After all, it had been a while since he had felt so alive.

"But now I've need to search for another useless spirit for answers," he muttered. Not that he expected any from Lanayru in the first place. He should've tried at questioning Eldin, but he'd tainted that hopeful spirit with decay to the point where its existence withered. Perhaps he should have thought of this sooner. "But it was so exhilarating." At his words, he twirled about on the vast field of Hyrule. Anything with gore excited the man. It wasn't particularly sexual pleasure, but more of satisfaction. The violence got him noticed by those who _mattered_ and that very truth satisfied him to no end. Of course, it would be delightful if the true Hero was being pinned with his doings.

At the thought of the Hero he abruptly ceased in his frolicing. The Hero had comrades, did he not? If Link remembered correctly, there was always a knowledgeable princess by his side. The princess was the chosen one of Nayru after all and she did know the whereabouts of the Sacred Realm before Hyrule's Fall. Ah, Hyrule's Fall… it was such a lovely time. Such a shame that the Hero had to ruin that too.

"Should we pay Hyrule's royal family a visit or would that be too soon?" He pondered aloud. Link looked to the dead man-Colin. Just as he, the young soldier was covered in bodily fluid; however, Link himself did not reek of death. The wound on Colin's head was rotting and stinking underneath the hot sun. To a sane nose it would've smelled horrid, but to a nose such as Link's it smelled of something similar to roses. Perhaps it was his acquaintance with the smell.

A Redead did not excel in vocalization. When dead, one's vocal chords tended to rot with the rest of the flesh. To Link's amusement, this did not deter the dead Colin from attempting at a voice. The response was a myriad of wet, thick grunts with an abrupt nod of the head. The very attempt had a trail of blood leak from Colin's lips for his decayed body could not withstand such action.

"The castle is close by," he looked away, refrained from a fit of giggles, "closer than Ordona and Faron's provinces." It would be easier to confront a mortal rather than a holy spirit. His body would likely not be able to withstand another holy attack from the opposing force. Then again, if he were to extinguish the light spirits then the light itself would not be so strong.

_Where's the fun in that? _Light spirits did not bleed, they did not feel emotions such as fear, and they did not bare flesh. He preferred slicing his blade through mortal flesh. In addition, it would be much easier to torture a living being rather than a translucent, spiritual goat or monkey. That very fact made him giddy, made his body shudder with anticipation. Perhaps he could even make it more interesting and murder the Nohansen king of Hyrule! Delightful. Hyrule would fall into utter chaos.

He liked the sound of that.

* * *

The princess could not look Link in the eye. She couldn't afford to for she would surely break. Yet she could not keep from looking at him when the soldiers escorted him to the castle's gates. She only saw his back, but it was enough for one of her walls to crack. No, she could not… she would not. Zelda's hands shook terribly and she tried her best to hide them by grasping at her long skirts. She would not cry. She would not cry.

Then the gates opened and she felt her heart fall. She found herself wanting him to look at her, to demand his innocence, to laugh and say it was all a cruel joke. She wanted it to be a dream yet here she was, clutching at her skirts for dear life as she followed after the "broken Hero." That title made her tremble even more… in a way, it was true.

She followed after her soldiers and after her friend in hidden desperation. A part of her wanted to call the punishment off. Surely the people would understand if she reminded them of his deeds. No one was perfect, surely they would understand that. Albeit, the words from her people proved her doubts. They would not understand. She let her head down as the hatred from Hyrule's people reached her ears.

They were calling him a monster, a traitor, a murderer.

Her eyes remained stuck to the stone path beneath them as they made their way to the heart of Castletown. There, next to the glorious fountain and the golden statue of the royal family's crest would the Hero hang. Ironic for she had loved that fountain… but now, when her eyes finally did lift from her skirts, did she look upon it with disdain. It would be nothing but a burden now. Its waters would not look so crystal clear when the deed of murder was done. The statue would not shimmer under the sun's gaze once the rope became taut.

The hero and her soldiers headed up the steps of the platform that had been hurriedly built the other night. When the Hero took the first step, the hatred ceased. Silence, all but the groaning wood protested from the weight remained within Castetown's square.

Reluctant at first, the princess followed after them, but her legs would not allow her the freedom to go up the last step. Instead, she found her body teetered among the steps, fingers turned white as she tightly clutched at her skirts. _She couldn't do this_. _She had to stop this. _

Yet the hatred came like a tidal wave, shattered the silence with such a profound emotion that the princess shuddered. So much hatred… she looked to her Hero, caught his sapphire eyes that peered through unruly, filthy hair. He remained still as they lowered the coarse rope down and around his neck. All but his head moved, slowly, hauntingly.

When his eyes met hers, her stomach twisted up in knots. Her breath became something of a memory and she found herself trembling underneath his gaze. It was heartbreaking. Truly saddening for the emotion in his eyes was devoid of everything but contempt.

' _I trusted you. I loved you. . . I hate you. ' _

She wasn't a master when it came to lip reading, but in that moment, she read his lips with such ease. In a way, it was like she had heard him speak those words.

_I trusted you. I loved you… I hate you._

The rope was tightened about his neck and the crowd cheered. His lifeless eyes never wavered from the gaze of the princess, even when the wood beneath him slipped from underneath his bare feet. Even when the world came tumbling down, his gaze never left hers.

* * *

There were no guards to entertain him as he crossed the northern bridge to Castletown. Well, it wasn't rather surprising, but it was very disappointing. Despite the wounds that still marred his flesh and his saturated tunic, he wanted a second challenge. Something… anything… and so when he pushed against the thick, tall wooden doors he was even further disappointed to find that there were no Hyruleans frolicing about in the alley. He sighed, a frown suffocated the smile he had waltzed in with, but before he could comment on the absence of life to the Redead that limped behind him, he heard it.

The sound was abrupt and long, like a scream from a dying man, but it did not end. It continued, only to rise and fall, rise and fall. It reminded him of an erratic heartbeat. He followed it, not because of sheer curiosity, but because of the emotion that began to burn within him at the recognition of it. He felt misplaced animosity, misplaced sorrow.

He rounded the corner of the alley only to be met with an obnoxious crowd. Their words were a mess and the dark villain could only pick out the anger, the cheer, from the voices. Then his eyes rested on the platform that leaned against the fountain and golden statue of a royal crest. That former smile returned, a murderous curl added a sickening length to his lips.

He watched, satisfaction replaced the foreign emotions, as the Hero fell and the rope became taut.


	12. Chapter 12

**Edited 6/8/16**

**Here we go... let's get corrupted further, shall we? R&amp;R!**

* * *

**Chapter 12: See You in Darkness**

" _I scream but only echoes care to answer . . . "_

_Music Suggestion: Prisoners of War by Crown the Empire_

* * *

_They did this. _She _did this. _The Hero's eyes turned as the rope tightened against his skin. He had dedicated his life to this country, he had risked his life, his friends, and his village, and yet here he was, awaiting the fulfillment of his sentence. His eyes met _hers_, he couldn't even speak her name now let alone conjure its letters up in his head. Her name was painful. Sure, he had friends he had trusted, but none of them knew the peril, the journey that he had gone through to protect Hyrule and its people. No one knew all that he had lost and the pain he had gone through because of some childish title... no one but _her_.

_I loved her… once._ The thought brought an agonized throb to his heart. She'd betrayed him so easily for the sake of appearance and class. Even now, he could read the turmoil on her face yet she did nothing. _As she always does. _

_I hate her. _

He felt the floor beneath him shift, vanish, but all the while his eyes remained on hers. He wanted her to suffer. He wanted her to hurt. He deserved that satisfaction of knowing this scene would forever haunt her dreams. She could deny all she wanted, but she would never be able to forget.

_So unfair._

Then, she vanished from view and he felt the rope jerk, snap his head back as it reached its full length. Link let out a gurgling gasp, the sharp fibers cut into his throat like knives, and in that one, sharp exhale he felt his lungs wither. Yet he felt no fear… even when the black dots splattered across his vision because his hatred outweighed such _pathetic _emotions such as fear.

_So unfair._

* * *

The inverted man would have giggled, would have shouted with joy along with the moronic Hyruleans because finally… finally… he was _he_. He was his own person, he was _the _Link. He did, almost, for the laugh was just about to spill from his lips, but then he felt it. It was a slight tickle at first, the sensation that struck his throat, but when he took notice to it, it evolved. His hands flew to the nape of his neck, a desperate act to extinguish the burn that grew, but his hands instead touched the ground beneath him as his body fell forward. A few Hyruleans cursed him, moved away at his unnatural behavior yet not a single one of them noticed him. They did not notice… if they did they would only say he was _that _Link. Such a frustration would have riled him up, but instead he found himself struggling to keep air within his lungs.

_One cannot live without the other._

Crimson eyes blinked, glared at the backs of the cheering Hyruleans with utter hatred. The realization of his predicament… damn the Goddesses, every single one. He growled, but the sound came out as a gasp as his trembled fingers turned their course to the sword's hilt at his back. It was regrettably too good to be true then again perhaps it always had been. He was a shadow- a figment of the Hero- so perhaps it was natural for him to die without the existence of the man he resembled. _Damn __**him**__!_

He unsheathed his beloved, forced to use it so as to lift himself from the ground. All the while, he watched as the world before him blurred. The colors abruptly became dull, bleached of life, and the clarity deformed. For once, as he shuddered against the support of his sword, he felt fear. It was emotion that was truly his. Something that he hadn't felt since his creation. Pathetic.

With a roar-it came out like a squeak-he leaned back and swung his sword with a shaking arm. Its blade cut deep, lashed angrily at the backs of Hyrule's people. Almost immediately, the cheer of a Hero's death morphed into something that would have been music to his ears, but his twisted mind was too focused on the sight of his hanging counterpart to care.

He hacked at the flesh like he was cutting down grass. It wasn't his usual way of murder, it wasn't the beautiful display of art that he always strived for, but the fact that his vision and breath were failing had drawn him away from his self-humored antics. His mind was more concerned about survival. Although he would not mind ridding the world of the Hero, he didn't want to leave along with the goody-bastard. However, when he staggered through the scattered crowd, reached what he assumed to be the platform's stairs-he could barely make out the shapes of steps-he felt the holy presence of _her_. The recognition made his skin crawl with discomfort, but he couldn't help the smile that gradually split about his lip. Without a doubt, she stood there, trembling, and staring.

_I want her to suffer. _

He shook his head abruptly at the intrusive thought and the very movement made him feel light-headed. Link would have wondered over that thought, over the malice that radiated from it, and over the fact that it was clearly the Hero's own, personal desire, but the tightened pressure at his neck pressed him forward.

Link stumbled up the steps, walked into Zelda in his attempt to feel out for the last step. He shouldered her, shoved her the side roughly before making a beeline to what he imagined to be the rope. At this point, all he could manage were faint, soft colors, and so he depended on the pain that wracked his body. With each step the pain intensified, and although the pain was beginning to wear him down, his desperation kept him shuffling forward.

His body slowed, becamedisobedient as the front of his boot reached the hole within the platform. It took all the villain had just to lift up his arm, to lift up his blade and whack at the air in front of him. The blade struck something that vibrated from the connection and he gladly reached for it. Fingers laced around thick rope. He sawed vigorously then, desperately, and with each rhythmic movement of his blade, he felt the pain lessen.

Only when the rope snapped in two did the color come back to life. His lost breath came back abruptly, made him draw back with a heavy gasp. Red eyes blinked, colors and shapes about him becoming too much.

Link squinted, eyes still unaccustomed to such vibrance, as his attention returned to the situation at hand. He moved back to the where the rope swung freely and peered down, caught sight of greasy locks and pale skin. For a moment, he found curiosity in the Hero's expression if he, the dark Link, was ever discovered, but such a thing would not occur for from his perch atop the platform he saw trembled eyelids underneath a thick curtain of hair.

_What were they even doing in the first place? Isn't he _the Hero _that they love and worship like a god? Unless… oh, how marvelous! They really did suspect him committing my deeds. _It was ironic, his happiness for that Link's sudden turn of events. If it did not negatively pertain to that Link then he would have been angered for not being noticed. Sure, he had done all that carnage for nothing, but if it made his other half's life turn upside down… he wouldn't have it any other way.

"L-Link?" He growled inwardly at the voice that dared interrupt him from his inner glee. That very speaker even dared to grasp his shoulder. For some reason unknown to him, her voice and touch pained him. Annoyed him. Angered him more than it should have.

"Link, you… no… impossible. You can't be…" He turned then, a glare obscuring his confusion as he met the eyes of a person that made him tighten his grip on the hilt of his blade. It did not take a genius to place a name upon the rather eye-catching woman before him; however, he'd never seen the current generation's Zelda. She looked much more beautiful than her previous forms yet he found no affection or interest toward her. Then again, a shadow couldn't feel such things even if he wanted-

_I want her to suffer._

A poisonous smile spiraled about his face, "Hello, dear princess," he whispered sweetly, grasped the porcelain, jewel covered hand that clung onto his shoulder. His fingers dug into her skin as he brought the back of her hand to his lips. All the while he could feel the light and the power of wisdom that she possessed. The very gifts burned his palm and the foul lips he used to kiss her hand. "What a pleasure it is, to see you." He looked up from her hand, grinned and chuckled as she tried to pull that very hand away from him.

"Who… you're not Link. Who are you," she shrieked. Zelda struggled, pulled at her hand, but the dark man's grip was too strong. That and the very sight of him was intimidating. His whole body was splattered with blood and he looked exactly like Link. At first, she had thought that he was _her _Link. She had thought that he had came back from the dead, or that he was a simple figment of her imagination. However, she came to a quick realization that he was indeed not her Link when she saw his bloody eyes. She was even more assured of the matter when her people scattered about the square, screaming with confusion.

She would have called for her men who had taken to aiding the wounded, but instead she found herself trembling underneath the villain's gaze. This Link's eyes were so red. They were so dark and eerie that she found herself lost in them.

"It's unladylike to shriek, princess," he scolded and pulled her closer to him, "Oh, but so sorry to disappoint you, but I _am _Link..."

Zelda eyed him with caution as he brought his face close to hers. She could smell death upon his breath. "That's-"

"Ah-ah, how impolite. I wasn't finished yet, dear girl. I am Link, but not in the sense that you think. For I was born in darkness, and am her Hero. _I am _the _Link _that will bring this world down to its knees. Be happy, princess, for don't we all wish for a little darkness?"

Her eyes widened at his threat and even more so at his reiteration. How could there be another Hero, especially one that looked the opposite of her Hero? It's impossible. A Hero only comes when…

"Princess!" The princess and Link both turned to look at the gathering soldiers. They were dressed in chainmail, spears at the ready as they awaited their beloved woman's order. Link sneered at her cavalry and finally released her hand, but before she could draw away from him, he brought a hand to her cheek. She jumped at the contact, eyes lost in his once more.

"Did you know what he thought when the world came tumbling down," he mused, but his face did not crack with a smile, "'I hate her. I want her to suffer.'"

* * *

The heroic Link had found a sickening comfort within the darkness of his dying mind. For once, he felt at peace despite the storm of emotions that tugged at his heart. Yet he was already forgetting the reason behind those ideals. Why was he so angry? Why did his heart ache and his… throat…

He coughed, violently so, when a gust of icy air touched his lungs and as he did he found his sanctuary shatter. The color and light that met his gaze caught him entirely off-guard. His body recoiled at the bright, detailed appearance of the lively world about him. When the screams reached his pointed ears, the reasons behind those devolved emotions returned. The darkness that saturated his very being made him shudder, but he would have gladly drowned in it further if it were not for the realization that struck him then. Those screams were not for him. Not only that, but the voice that reached his pointed ears next… it made the malice within him grow cold.

'I hate her. I want her to suffer.' Link shuddered at that voice's very make yet his mind never wrapped around the words it spoke. Instead, all he could focus on was the fact that it was familiar. It was familiar and similar and he came to a confused conclusion that it was his. Bewildered at the very idea, he moved shaking fingers to his lips, and sure enough his lips remained in a thin, closed line.

Then he heard the footsteps above him, heard the speaker's boots scrape off the platform's edge, and saw brown, bloodstained boots land before him. He jumped back, the abrupt action brought a stabbing touch of pain to his body as his blue eyes caught the glistening crimson on those boots. His gaze strayed only once to catch the metallic boots of the Hyrulean soldiers that surrounded the one that shared voice. Somewhere above him, he heard _her _speak his name, and that confused him all the more. Neverhtless, he stayed where he was, hidden from view, underneath the platform.

He heard the sword sing through the air before he saw the first soldier fall. He'd never seen so much blood come from a being before and the sight of it scared him, but his eyes remained on the sight. The swordsman moved swiftly, danced between the soldiers with ease. They twirled about the armored men and thrusted the blade through the small opening, right above the chest plate. When the sword dug into the meat, the red trickled upon contact, he could hear it dig until the blade protruded from the other side. He could even hear the blade being withdrawn. Such heightened senses should have been questioned for the screams and flails of Hyrulean citizens still resounded around them yet Link was too divulged in the macabre that spilled before him.

His skin itched to feel the essence of life that trickled amongst the metallic body suits, but his heart throbbed with a desire of heroism. His newly found fascination was incredibly disturbing; however, he found the persistent urge to be a Hero irritating and for some reason unknown to him, the irritation outgrew the unnatural desires that bubbled up within him.

Should he be afraid?

His opposed thoughts never conjured up a legitimate answer, even when the last soldier fell to saturated ground. Only when the swordsman moved forward, away from the platform and the carcasses, did Link realize he was holding in a breath of misplaced awe. Oddly enough, he knew it was uncalled for. He should feel remorse for the deceased men, but when he tried to mimic sorrow, his previous emotions seemed to revive and take its place. Why should he bother worrying and protecting? After all, the people of this nation had turned their backs on him so easily. They didn't care and for all he knew, they never cared to begin with.

_They used you._

Link remained underneath the platform, the rope still at his neck, as he watched the stranger with the similar voice walk away. From the platform's height, he could barely catch sight of the others body and blade until the man was a good distance away. He turned the corner, entered an alleyway right when the blade gleamed underneath the heated gaze of the sun.

Although Link had carried the holy blade for only a matter of days before he returned it to its rightful place, he would never forget the look of the Master Sword. Even if the sword itself was aged, rusted, and discolored, he would know of it because it had been a part of him. Whenever he had held it, he could feel the presence of his ancestors and the holy power that vibrated within its metal. He'd gone through so much with that blade in hand.

_But it's not the Master Sword. There's no way. _He stared at the mouth of the alleyway, even when the stranger vanished from sight. That sword, that stained blade, looked exactly like the heroic weapon. The only difference it held was the way it glared from the sun's gaze. That metal was black, cursed.

_It's beautiful, no? _

Same voice. Similar sword. Perhaps it was the recent loss of air that resulted in the slow connection or perhaps it was the mess of thoughts and desires that littered his head, but his realization came about at a painstakingly slow pace. It came on like a disease and it spread through the fingertips first only to crawl its way to the heart. He had been wrongfully blamed for a massacre he had nothing to do with… despite his doubt that had began to form after the murderous _accident_ with the soldier in Kakariko. Yet when the realization touched him, he felt no relief. In a sense, he felt nothing. There was not even the telltale anger that _should _have surfaced because that event had ruined everything.

_But is that not for the best? After all, it showed you the truth. This world is rotten and ungrateful. It does not deserve saving, protecting. It never did._

"Link!"

His eyes blinked, thoughts scattered, before his head reluctantly lifted to that honey-filled voice. Blue eyes met that of a traitor, someone he had once loved with all he had.

The princess looked down the shaft and relief flooded over her features as she peered down at him. Her right cheek was splattered with blood, but other than that single blemish, she looked untouched. Sad, he wouldn't mind if she was bleeding. He wouldn't mind if she was hurting from a stab wound. Maybe he could-

_What in the name of Din? _Links eyes shifted as he caught the path his thoughts were taking. What was he thinking? He'd be just as bad as that man if he even thought of such vile actions! Despite the people's perspective of him, he was still a Hero, and as such he shouldn't condone such violent, irregular thought. It was indecent, wrong, unacceptable… scary. It was-

"I'm so glad you're safe."

Those blue eyes narrowed, a bit of life returned to those dim irises that had weakened within the dark confines of Hyrule's cells. She was glad? Glad. He wanted to smack her.

"I-I'm so sorry! I realize, you didn't do those cruel things," she spoke, her voice finally cracked from its political facade. "I'm sorry, I doubted you."

_She's just like the rest of them. She uses and abuses you. She lies to you. She betrayed you. __So easily led astray._

Link's fingers dug into the stone, cuticles bled from the sudden pressure as he pushed himself up to the best standing position that he could, despite the wooden beams that surrounded him. "I trusted you," he spat as his hands flew out to support him on shaky legs, nails dug into the wood. "I gave my life to you," his voice shook with intensity, "yet you turned your back on me, so easily! You betrayed me." It had been the first time in a while that his words were finally able to come through but with them came an eternal wave of emotion.

At his words, she took a hand to her lips as if to hide the surprise at his words. The bitch, she even dared to gasp at his tone, to shake her head in denial, "I did believe in you, Link, but you didn't defend yourself. You didn't claim innocence. You didn't say a word on the matter, and you know that this country favors her people. If the people will it, it will happen."

"Don't give me that Eldin shit."

"Link, please, I-"

"Shut up. I don't want to hear it."

"Link-"

"Enough, _princess_."

"Can't we talk about this later, that man-"

"I _said_ that's _enough_," he spoke maliciously as he withdrew a hand from the wood and brought it to the rope about his neck. With one, swift movement he jerked it from his neck. The noose snapped and fell to the ground at his feet. His gaze left hers, "Goodbye." The words came out harsh, brisk and when he uttered them, he began to make his way out from underneath the platform.

"Link, please! Listen-"

He poked his head out from the platform's belly and barely gave her a glance over his shoulder. "Oh, should I? Like you have any right to ask that of me, don't you think you're being hypocritical, _princess?_ After all I've done for you, these people, and this country… you turned on me quicker than the blink of an eye. You say I didn't defend myself, but you never even gave me the chance! How did you expect me to, once I knew what you and the people were trying to pin on me? I did murder that soldier, but for reasons I cannot explain; however, even you know that I would never commit such acts. Yet, you didn't even question _that_. Shouldn't I have been given the benefit of doubt from the one person I loved above everyone else?" His words came out heated, rushed, and he felt his anger grow and grow. The Hero was tired and broken and he'd had enough. "I can't do this anymore. I can't be a Hero to an ungrateful country- an ungrateful kingdom-or love a traitorous witch."

_Yes, turn your back on a world that turned on you._

With his infuriated words still left in the air, he averted his gaze from her for the last time. He would have no more of her, of the Hyruleans and their pathetic lives, and no more heroism. However, when he took his first step away from that platform and the princess who was surely crying, he felt a dagger of pain dig into his heart. Heroism defined him. It was the epitome of him. To be a Hero was his existence, his inner most desire. It was something that was hardwired into every Hero, every generation, so when he turned his back with finality he found himself doubting. He'd been a Hero for so long. How does one stop being a Hero?

His legs felt heavy with every step he took, farther and farther away from his first love. In truth, a part of him wanted to stay in hopes that things would turn back to normal. In reality, they probably would, but the events that had transpired were still too much. Even if it was the same for _her,_ it would never be the same for him. The anger drove him forward as did one, sporadic thought that stood out amidst the negativity that wracked his conscience.

_Find the one responsible for this agony, for this personal hell. A Hero would stop them, but stop them for yourself… not for your kingdom._

His pace quickened both for the ideal as well as the sorrowful cries that reverberated behind him. If he saw tears, he would likely stay, forgive, and forget. _Turn your back on a world that turned on you. They used and abused you. They do not deserve you. They never did._

As he headed into the alleyway that the stranger had taken, he never once questioned his current thought's path. He didn't even question its difference. Surely his thoughts had never been so dark, so malevolent, and so unforgiving. He had been through thick and thin before and even that did not change him, granted he hadn't been hung and betrayed. Nevertheless, he did not question the thoughts that were _not of his own_. Instead, he embraced them blindly and trusted them easily like a child would a stranger.

He pushed his way through the frightened citizens of Castletown. He ignored their occasional, undesired attention, curses, and threats sent his way for they had yet to connect the stranger that had shown up at his hanging to the massacres, and he ignored the desire to aid and comfort those who flailed about like newborn birds. Instead, Link found more interest in the heavy, wooden doors at the end of the alley that would lead to his freedom and possible answers.

He not only wanted to find and stop the stranger, but he wanted to question the individual. Why? Why kill all those people and why save him? Although he was not exactly sure if the stranger had committed such vile acts and saved him from the death, but if it was so then why? Would it not free him of suspicion, make life easier if his evil deeds were plastered onto another's name?

Link, for the first time in his life, set out on an adventure… not for the fickle world he now hated, but a journey for himself. And as he opened and closed those heavy doors behind him, he couldn't help but feel a small smile twist on his dirty lips. It was a smile unlike him, but a smile nonetheless.

* * *

**Hopefully Zelda isn't hated too much and Link isn't seen as a crybaby...**


	13. Chapter 13

**Edited 6/9/16**

* * *

**Chapter 13 - His Name is Darkness**

"_How do you destroy a monster without becoming one? "_

**Music Suggestion: **Monsters by Ruelle

* * *

_She held his hand in silence. She- the princess of Hyrule -stayed at his bedside, in silence, for twenty-two days. All the while, she never uttered a word. Sound was unnecessary, even if she had spoken, the Hero would have not heard it. No, he was too far gone. For, throughout his journey he had lost pieces of himself. __His humanity had been chipped away, each time he'd taken the beast's form__, __and his sanity hadn't fared much better. The toxins of the Twilight realm had __gradually __invaded his mind and had begun to rot his soul, but what was perhaps even worse was the death of his heart, when the witch had left him._ _When _she- _the queen of Twilight, Midna -had __abandoned_ _him. _

_When everything ended, was said and done, he had lost himself entirely. _

_Link continued to stare straight ahead, ignored the Zelda's presence. He never gave her acknowledgement for he was too __anchored_ _in his own thoughts. His mind was a mess. His body was in pain. He'd become _nonexistent_. _

_To save the world was a feat_ _that went unmatched__, but when one dedicated his life to that feat… what was there to do afterward? How did a soldier live after a war? It had taken roughly a year and a half and not once had the Hero wondered about what he would do after he saved his country. __He hadn't allowed himself to think beyond the next challenge because all that mattered was to conquer the world's issues._ _Yes, he was simple-minded, but only out of fear. The Hero was afraid to think past his duty as the Chosen One because if his mind strayed then the confidence he held would go along with it. Not only that, but that one year and six months had been hell, a nightmare that he'd had countless times during childhood. _

_Yet, through all that he had found solace in _her_. Yes, the witch had used him, but when she had finally softened and warmed up to him… she changed. She became his support, his friend, and his lover. _

_Then she_'_d_ _left him, left him to deal with the trauma of being freed from the beast's grasp, of the terrors he overcame, and over the loss he gained__._ _She threw him away. _Perhaps it's what they all do, use, abuse, and betray.

* * *

The overturned Link leaned over the bridge's wooden railing, a dark look of disappointment spun his features as he continued to glare at the crystal water below. He had left Castletown in a panic, but leaving it as such had not been something he had intended. No, he wanted to leave it in _ruins_. Of course, that wouldn't have been his intention either. He wanted to interrogate the princess, perhaps rip his blade through kingly flesh-he was curious as to whether or not a royal's blood ran in a different color. There was also the possibility of cutting down her royal highness as well. Would her screams be an even better melody than that of her subjects? Or would she be prideful till the end, enduring it in a painful silence that spoke more than words themselves? He was also upset that he hadn't been able to at least witness his doppelganger's hanging. "Damn Goddesses," he cursed lowly, nails dug into the aged wood within his grasp.

He'd wandered the fields of Hyrule until he could barely see Hyrule castle's towers. Only then did he stop for a rest, to mull over his remaining options. Taking refuge atop the bridge that overlooked a quaint pond, that was sadly untouched by Hylia's bloodied waters, he brooded. Below the bridge, Colin lazily stalked about in the waters, but the pond's embrace did little to clean away the dirt and gore that clung to his being. Every now and then he would awkwardly move out from underneath the bridge to look up at his master, grunt, and then recede to the bridge's shelter.

The sun made his rot grow faster.

Link took the grunts as smart remarks and that understanding drew a snarl upon his lips, "I know, I know. I've gone too soft, imagine, _me_ actually saving a life? However, that bastard would have killed me. I should've realized that sooner though, my mistake." He lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, ignored the smear of blood that his touch brought, "It's always too good to be true, isn't it? It would've been so easy, so painstakingly easy yet… I saved _him_. I even felt such pathetic emotions. Fear brings nothing," as he spoke, his words grew in volume until he was screaming. Yet all he got back in return was a gurgling grunt from below.

He sighed at that, found himself desiring a somewhat sane mind that held the ability to converse fully. Then again, he didn't mind the little acknowledgement that his abomination uttered. At least someone was listening to his rant, at least someone was _noticing _him. "And another thing, why am I cursed with this," he gestured roughly to himself, glared down at his tarnished clothing, "Is it too much to ask for my own flesh and blood and not someone else's?"

Of course not. _It's fun though, isn't it, to dirty the Hero's name because of the identical similarities? _Link returned to leaning over the wooden rail, glaring all the more. It was true, but still… from the moment he was created, the moment he'd had his first kill, and the moment he became infatuated with blood, he had wanted to be _one_.

"Perhaps I should just attempt at questioning another light spirit," he asked, but this time he did not receive a response from Colin, "I could always make it more fun and confront the spirit in the Hero's village." That brought a giggle to come forth from his lips. Of course, he would have to make a mess of things there before visiting Ordona.

Link pulled away from the rail's support, but he remained atop the bridge for a moment as his eyes strayed back to the dirt path that led back to Castleown. In the back of his mind, he had a thought. Had the Hero heard his words, had he been _seen _by his good-natured half? If so, what were the thoughts, the emotions that ran rampant in that pitiful head of his? The inverted man would've happily dug deeper into that, into the idea of causing the Hero confusion and turmoil, but his fancies were nowhere close to wondering of his lookalike. Instead, he found himself more interested in the bloodied waters that would run from Ordona's spring when he was finished with it.

* * *

He wiped at the filth that dripped into his eyes as he trekked on through the vastness of Hyrule's field. Being that of a seasoned Hero, one would think he was smarter than this, but here he was sneaking over hills and in-between trees in torn clothes and on bare feet. Such things, to run amidst hills and trees, were rather difficult. They were few and far between but not once did the man look behind him. Every now and then he would pause, crouch to the ground on uneasy legs, and hide behind the nearest tree. It helped him catch his breath as well as sight of the man who had saved him.

Thankfully, the stranger stopped at the bridge that rested at the heart of the field. It brought on a sigh of relief because although he was fit, being confined in a cell for a time had taken its toll on his body. Nevertheless, he did not dare rest until he got as close to the man as possible without being seen. It wasn't particularly hard for his savor never once looked down the path to Castletown. Instead, he seemed more fascinated with the water that shimmered beneath the bridge than with anything else that rested within the field's mouth.

He stumbled up to the closest tree, hugged it for support as his head gradually peered over the bark. All the while he tried to silence his haphazard breath and frantic heart as well as the boiling emotion that began to stir in his gut.

Perhaps he was seeing things.

Leaning over the bridge was a man, yes, but this man wore the garb of the Hero. However, his tunic was black… or rather, it _was _black. Even from the distance he smelled the gore coming from those clothes. It was a smell he would've liked to have forgotten. Not only that, but the weaponry that the man carried on his back looked familiar.

"_I could always make it more fun and confront the spirit in the Hero's village."_

Link shuddered at the voice that came from those pale lips. Although one couldn't hear the sound they made word for word, he _knew_. That man… that voice… it sounded similar to his own.

He would've looked on, lost in a trance as well as the confusion that began to overcome him, but then the man moved. His head turned and the Hero quickly darted behind the safety of the tree. He pressed his back against it, blue eyes stared up at the greenery above him.

_Surely I'm seeing things. I'm going mad. There's no way, no way in Hyrule, that I have a twin. That's it, I've gone mad. No way about it. _The Hero continued to entertain that thought yet when curiosity drove him to peek over the bark again that bit of entertainment fell. Those words, words spoken by a voice like his, finally came to light. The Hero's village?

His blue eyes would've continued to stare holes at the man's back until he had disappeared from view, but the sound of a gurgling moan drew him from his shock. He turned then and set his gaze upon a decayed monstrosity that moved much like an infant learning to walk. It flailed its arms stiffly as it climbed up the side of the slope that led to the pond. Its skin looked raw, rotten as it wobbled loosely on bone. He would've disregarded it and instead worried for the man's safety, that is until he saw those blond locks and azure eyes.

Of course, blond hair and blue eyes were common, but the height was also something he gravely noted. The clothes of a soldier, although they were barely recognizable due to the filth and rips in fabric, were painstakingly familiar too.

"Colin," The name trembled from his lips. His fingers, the nails dug into the tree's flesh until they bled, tickled with the urge to reach out to that decayed body of his friend. Surely, surely that was Colin, the boy that had looked up to him since day one. The boy he had rescued and mentored. Colin, the one he treated like his brother. Yet this boy, this man, was _dead_. Even as the creature moved over to the bridge, Link could smell the meat that aged upon its skin.

It followed the man off the bridge, on the opposite side, and followed him further, but never once did it go close to him or past him. Instead, it kept a few feet of distance between it and the odd man, even when they crossed the trees that signified the borderline of Ordona's province.

* * *

The sun threw lazy shadows across the Ordona clearing, its fingers barely lit up the abandoned house of a man before he was a Hero; however, the rays lit up the girl with the flowers like a flame. Her brown hair shimmered, its length trailed down her shoulders like trickling water, and her skin glistened like a glow on snow. Yet her eyes remained hidden underneath shadows, drowned in sorrow. Slowly, carefully she placed the flowers upon the mound of earth.

She would've spoken words to the lifeless dirt, perhaps prayed, but instead she crouched down and adjusted the flowers, fingers brushed delicate petals of crimson. All the while, she hummed a tune that she had treasured since childhood. The melody that fell from her lips was barely heard over the whistling wind that took refuge within the small clearing. When the flowers were placed atop the mound as neatly as possible, she withdrew her hands, but never once did her eyes stray from those blossoms. No, she would never allow her gaze to waver. She would never allow herself to look upon the gravestone that spoke so apathetically. It brought far too much pain for her to bear. She already knew the fact due to his-her father's-absence, but whenever she saw it written in stone made it all the more difficult to move on.

"Bo would be proud of you, you know." She jumped at the sudden voice, her heel slipped on loose dirt. Yet before she could touch the ground, a pair of strong, long arms caught her at the shoulders, "Whoa there, sorry, Illia. Didn't mean to startle you." She tilted her head back, peridot eyes peered up at a man she hadn't seen in ages.

Abruptly did she turn, freed herself from his grasp, but only then did she return to him and pull him into a hug. "Talo," she spoke the word as gently as the wind moved. Speaking his name only encouraged her to tighten her arms around him, "I've missed you!"

He stood a head taller than she, his face obscured by the metallic helmet that only gave free view to his eyes. Her fingers brushed at the blue tunic, thick fabric that stretched across metal, and for a moment she admired the embroidered crest of the royal family. Then Talo broke her spell of fascination with a laugh but the smile that took place on his tanned face did not reach genuinity. Ilia withdrew, "What, have I not been missed," she teased.

He sighed, gloved hands moved up gradually to remove the helmet that hid his bushy, muddied hair. The metal guards on his arms creaked at the action, "On the contrary, but I bring grave news." Her smile died at his words.

Hesitancy brought her to raise a brow, "Is Link all right?" At his name, Talo cringed. She'd uttered his name as if it were a precious jewel. Even after all these years, she still held feelings for him. Why, he couldn't possibly understand, but either way it irked him. Ever since Link had finished his journey and returned the children of Ordon home-Talo included-he had become different. He even left the village without a word. He never returned or sent word of his safety or his whereabouts. Thankfully, Talo and Colin had found him in Castletown before they had joined Hyrule's army. It was comforting to know that his friend was still alive, but Link had changed and he had moved on.

"Well, he's _all right_, right now. You see, he was sentenced to death and-"

"Oh Farore, what!"

"And there was a hanging today, for him."

"What… what are you saying? Talo, don't joke about something like this. This is cruel, this is not-"

"Why would I joke about this? Ilia, he killed everyone in Kakariko village. He even strangled my fellow comrade to death."

Ilia shook her head abruptly, her body trembled, "That's impossible. Link would never do that. Never! Clearly he's been framed."

"Well, it's possible since someone in Castletown saved him from the hanging, but Link never pled innocence. In fact, he never gave word of the cases that he was accused for participating in. The princess believes that he was either framed or is working with an accomplice-the one who saved him from his sentence."

"Have they questioned this accomplice then?"

"No… the suspect fled, but he left a trail of blood and carcasses behind him. The scary thing is that this suspect looked exactly like Link. I saw it with my own eyes!"

She narrowed her eyes at him, arms crossed over one another, "Are you sure you're not ill? How could that _bit_-I mean-_princess_ allow this to happen? Surely she believes Link is innocent. Surely there is a reason he cannot speak on the matter. He's a Chosen One of the Goddesses for Din's sake! Maybe an evil has returned and it's affected his words or maybe his mindset. Maybe an evil is threatening him! Maybe this 'lookalike' is the evil." She flailed her arms about frantically, tried to conjure up logical reasons to defend her beloved friend. Link a murderer? When Ordon goats fly.

Talo grabbed her wrists, "Look, I don't want to believe it either, okay?"

"So what, just because you're a soldier of Hyrule, you follow the royal family's decisions like a lost puppy? There's no way, no way, that Link would do such a thing!"

"Ilia, it's the only logical explanation. Link is the best swordsman in the country. Not even Rusl's sword technique and strength can match him. The murderer had to be well-educated in the way of the sword with the damage that they caused to bodies and inanimate objects alike."

She shook her head, but the words to continue defending her crush did not come to surface. It was logical, rational, but even so… "Look, I'm sorry," her eyes met his again as he too shook his head, "I'm going out of my way to warn you and the village about this. Even if it isn't Link, be careful about any strangers seeking refuge."

Ilia nodded solemnly as she turned, gaze finally settled on the stone that told of her father's passing. She had wanted Link to be with her then, when they had buried her father, "Is he at least all right?" Behind her, the soldier winced. He wasn't quite sure.

"The royal family sent out a platoon to search for him. I left when the orders were given to depart. I believe so since he walked off, going after that man who saved him." He barely heard her sigh of relief.

Even if she could not create words of defense, she still believed him to be innocent. To know that he was still alive made gazing at the tombstone all the less painful. "Jaggle is likely at the barn, caring for the goats. You should go see him, but don't tell anyone in the village of this matter."

"Sorry, but you being the mayor of Ordon doesn't give you the power over me, a soldier of Hyrule. It's my duty to protect the civilians and with that being said… I have to warn them of the threat."

"Then don't speak his name."

* * *

Crimson eyes swept across the glistening, crystal waters of the Ordona spring. Link stood at the spring's gate, far enough away to where the spirit could not sense his aura. He would've left the spring for later and in fact, he still intended to do so because it was far more fun that way. Yet here he was, standing at the eroded gates that led to the small clearing of a spirit goat, scolding a dead man as if it were a child.

"Colin, come here. Now." He had tried being "gentle," but such a word was not a part of his vocabulary and besides, the dead _thing _never listened to him unless it involved cursing and threats.

Colin had taken refuge in the offered water, frolicked in it awkwardly as the skin at his head flapped up and down with each stiff step. Though he was created from darkness, the spring showed no intention of making its true presence known. If anything, the only thing it did was spark the rocks that surrounded its endless flow of water with a brisk, green light as if it acknowledged the man's existence.

"You damned brat. Do I need to gut you? Let you run about with your entrails hanging around your neck?" He grit his teeth, fingers curled, "We don't have time for this and besides, that water is harmful to _us_. It's holy, pure, revolting," Link prattled yet his words fell on deaf ears.,"I will chop your head off and make you carry it, you disgusting bag of rotting flesh." He felt a bit of a smile snake its way over his face at the very idea, but when Colin took a seat within the spring, that smile was short lived. "Wouldn't frolicking in a spring of blood be more satisfying?" At his twisted words, his abomination looked up from its fascination with the waters. "Who knows, maybe I can show you how I painted Kakariko with blood?"

As he spoke, the Redead fell forward into the spring. Its flesh bubbled from the holy waters, but it remained indifferent as it stuck out its stiff arms and jutted out its legs in an odd attempt to stand. Somehow, it succeeded in its desire and soon it was limping to his side, gurgling nonsense all the while.

Link refrained from patting its head in praise and instead turned his back on the spring. It would have been fun to extinguish the light in the province first, but if the fight went as it did with Lanayru in Hylia then he would be left weak. Even now he could feel his skin burn at the mere memory. The wounds from that battle had not healed entirely and there were still bits of snowy flesh that were painted black from the corruption.

He sauntered down the pathway, kicked loose rocks as he walked, and somewhere behind him he could hear the telltale drag of Colin's boots. Without a doubt his abomination was limping along after him.

The dark man would've listened further if it wasn't for the voices that lingered from up ahead. He paused, focused on the new sound.

"_Sorry, but you being the mayor of Ordon doesn't give you the power over me, a soldier of Hyrule. It's my duty to protect the civilians and with that being said… I have to warn them of the threat," _a masculine voice resonated over the greenery. Slowly, Link continued his way down the dirt path.

"_Then don't speak his name," _a feminine tone replied, but he barely heard it over Colin's dragging.

Passing a line of thick trees, he met another clearing that opened up to what appeared to be a dead end. His attention wandered to the scene before him, catching sight of the gravestone before he gave notice to the two that mourned over it.

The young woman had her back to the Hyrulean soldier that stood with wilted shoulders, "I can't promise that, Ilia. The village people need to know," the soldier said weakly.

"I'm telling you, Link didn't do it." She turned on her heel, abruptly, and jabbed a finger in the soldier's direction. Her sudden action drew Link to shrink back behind the tree.

"But-"

"Enough. Just go away, do whatever you want. Let me mourn for my father in peace." With that she turned around again, arms vehemently folded over one another. The soldier in turn sighed, but thankfully obeyed. Without another word he turned and headed to a small opening which was nearly hidden from view due to the abundance of shrubbery. Ilia didn't move to follow him, much to Link's enjoyment, and instead fell on her knees in front of the headstone.

"I know you didn't do it, Link. I just know." Her words that trembled amidst tears made a smile twist about his features. Now this would be fun.

He moved around from the tree, easily, silently, and predatorily. All the while she remained at the mound of earth, crying her eyes out like an infant in need of milk. It made his heart swell with delight. Sorrow was easy to manipulate at times. Reaching her backside, he paused a moment for dramatic effect before he reached a hand to her shoulder.

Ilia's tears ceased from the touch, her skin burned from whatever it was that took hold of her shoulder. A voice in the back of her head whispered to run, to run and not look back. It and the tingling sensation that set fire to her skin drove her to lean forward, fingers grabbing at dry blades of glass as her attention wandered onto the pathway that led to her village. _Run._

As if he could read her thoughts, feel her muscles tense within his hold, his fingers curled about her shoulder tighter. "Are you alright?"

She shuddered, her whole body seized at that sweet, melodic voice that _sounded so wrong_. It did sound familiar, but it was different. It was dark, evil. Even if that speaker tried to mask it with sweet nothings, she could _feel_ the death that lingered within those words.

_Run or the red waters will run._

Yet her body disobeyed and she turned her head, emerald eyes looked up into pure obsidian, pure crimson. The darkness grinned back at her and the coldness at her shoulder stiffened underneath the sudden pressure of this stranger. She felt her heart skip a beat as her eyes finally settled and looked past the haunting colors that made this man. "L-Link…" her voice trembled as her mind spoke otherwise. No, this man was not Link.

_Link would never reek of death._

"You're not Link," the words barely spilled from her mouth as the darkness gained depth.

"Sorry to disappoint you," those white lips snickered, crimson eyes alight with sick delight.

_Run, Ilia. _

Finally, she obeyed. Fear drove her to pull away and desperation drove her to run yet she was far too slow. She was always too slow.

'_Hey Link, I never got to say thank you for saving me,' she smiled, but her Hero never returned her smile. _

She felt a piercing pain shoot through her back and her pace faltered, her bare feet tripped over dirt as a blackened blade shot through her chest.

_She missed his smile. _

"Sorry, missed your vitals," the imposter giggled as the blade was then jerked to one side, cutting into her lungs. She screamed, a sound he would never get tired of, and fell forward, but the blade followed after her. It followed her to the earth, its point dug into dirt until it pinned her there.

Blood trickled down her mouth, lungs drowned in her own blood, as her lips tried to form words. All the while her eyes searched for anything, anyone, to save her. All the while, she looked for _him_, but her Hero was nowhere in sight.

The sword withdrew, its blade cutting at her spine. In response she arched her back, screamed. At such a tantalizing sound, the dark man struck the sword down once more into flesh. The blood that poured came out like a waterfall from her mouth. If she didn't die from blood loss then she would die from drowning in it. Either way her gaze settled on the lifeless headstone and her fingers clawed in the dirt.

"L_iiiiiii-nnnn-_k." Her breath came out haphazardly over the blood that spilled. She wanted to see him. She wanted to see him. _Link_. Yet, he didn't come.

The red waters ran and all the while she held onto that one thought as the blade cut vertically through her flesh, tried to reach for her heart. She missed his smile, his laugh, _his _voice. Her vision blurred, shattered with black that began to drip like the blood at her mouth. The sounds of her own cries, of her own screams, began to drift from her senses. All she could hear, all she could give recognition to was the blade that slowly, painfully inched up toward her heart while her murderer giggled manically.

"Get away from her!"

Her eyes, though blinded by oncoming death, widened at the sweet sound that drifted over the laughter. It sounded so familiar, so warm, so _loving_. She felt the blade stop at her shoulder blade and the sudden lack of movement forced a whimper to gurgle past her stained lips.

"Oh, well if it isn't the _Hero_. Apologies, Hyrule doesn't see you as her Hero anymore, does she?" Ilia's body convulsed around the blade as that vile voice chattered. No, she didn't want to die hearing that man's repulsive voice.

"Get away. Now."

The man laughed, "Or what? You think that stick can go against my sword? Has being framed by my deeds made you lose your mind, _Link_?"

Desire brought her to shift her head. She could still see despite the blurriness that obscured the details and colors. She needed to see _him_. The movement brought a rush of blood to erupt from the hole in her chest yet she still moved until her eyes caught sight of a figure by the path that led to the spring. He came for her. Even if it wasn't true, she reiterated that lie until her mind stopped processing her surroundings, until it stopped in creating thought. He came for her, that's all that mattered.

"Ilia!" Yet his voice only reached his doppelganger's ears.

The sword shot up, cut into the heart before freeing itself at the flesh of her collarbone. It forced a guttural sound to spit out from its victim before the body itself fell to silence.

"Too bad, it looks like you didn't make it in time, Hero. How sad," the dark Link looked up from the girl beneath him into azure eyes that burned with a murderous desire.

Link clutched the stick as his eyes flickered between his lookalike and his childhood friend. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. "You killed her." His voice shook and he furiously blinked his eyes to keep the tears hidden. He would not dare cry in front of this monster.

"Well, yes. What did you think I was doing?" The doppelganger stood gradually, took his time to wipe the blood of the Hero's friend onto his tunic. The very action was rather useless for his tunic was already stained with the substance.

"She didn't do anything to you!"

"She looked at me."

Link narrowed his gaze, pointed the stick towards the man, "Who are you?"

The dark man raised a brow, a grin still rested on his face. Was it _that_ hard to figure out for the poor Hero? Perhaps the hatred from the people had affected the poor man more than he had thought. "It's obvious isn't it? My name is Link."

_His name is darkness. _The voice that whispered over the words that left the man's lips made Link cringe, but it didn't deter him from readying himself to spout another, useless question. However, the dark Link suddenly stepped toward him. In turn, Link quickly retreated.

"I'm your shadow. I'm your reflection. I'm your darkness," dark Link growled, his smile vanished as he advanced. Only when Link's back touched the rough bark of a tree did dark Link cease in movement. "I am Link."

_I am darkness._


	14. Chapter 14

**Shout out to Usagi-Strike for always supporting Dark Link's crazy antics!**

**Also, shout out to my awesome beta reader, Nothin'Fancy (hey, read her story Let's Go Home!). Without her, this chapter would not be up and running and ruining crap!**

* * *

**Chapter 14 - Red Innocence **

" _Somewhere we went wrong. We were once strong. "_

**Music Suggestion: Error by Cryptex**

* * *

His fingers brushed the hair that plastered on her face, brown strands wet with blood. Despite being in the presence of someone vile, he let the tears fall freely as he held her body close to his. Through the tears, he shut everything out and this included the feel of her blood. It was still hot to the touch and it was still dripping from gaping holes in her body.

"Oh, did we love her?" Link cringed at the voice that taunted him, a cold breath giggling by his ear. Nevertheless, he closed his eyes in a weak attempt to ignore the encroaching darkness that took over the clearing, that took over his heart.

Did he love her? Yes, he did once. It was when they were kids… no, maybe he still loved her. Either way, it was far too late. Her skin was already dulling from the beautiful color of life. Her lips were turning blue, eyes glazing.

"Did you know that she believed in _us _till the end?" That voice creeped under his skin, making it visibly crawl. It brought a smile to dark Link's lips. Yet he didn't fancy being ignored and the sound of a crying hero was becoming incredibly irritating. Again, he wasn't being noticed correctly. Perhaps he should fix that?

A hand tangled in Link's grimy locks, jerking his head back and away from resting against Ilia's cold forehead. He brought his face to Link's ear, "But it was oh so enjoyable to hear her cries. Did you know that she called for you?" He laughed heartily when he caught the hero's jaw tense, blue eyes finally sliding to the side to glare at the dark man.

"Why are you doing this?" Link's voice sounded dry, quiet as he spoke through silent tears. "The Hyruleans, Gorons, Zoras… Colin, Ilia, they didn't _do anything _to you." His voice became stronger at the mentioning of his friends.

"Is it not obvious, hero? They were in the way."

"Why? That-that doesn't make sense! There has to be a better reason than that!"

"Does madness have to be defined, hero?" Link glared, the title that fell from his doppelganger's lips sounded wrong. Meaningless. "I killed them because they suspected I was you."

He blinked then, staring into what his mind could only depict as the gaze of death. He'd never seen such red eyes before, "But… you are me." The very statement felt awkward on his tongue and when the dark man responded with a twisted sneer, he reconsidered his mindset.

"I may look like you, but we are nothing alike. It pains me to be recognized as _you_, and then when I am realized to be different, they all appear disappointed, judgemental, and ignorant. Even your damned goddesses turn their noses up at the sight of me because I am not _the _hero." Dark Link growled, his hand shooting out to coil around that filthy, sickly neck. Right away, Link set to pulling at the others dark hand, the very contact of skin on skin making his body feel incredibly cold, incredibly lost. "I do not exist. I'm your shadow and to be quite honest, it's disgusting."

Dark Link wanted to squeeze the breath out of the hero, but even when his fingers barely tightened about that scrawny neck, he felt his own neck burn with a phantom touch. Damn it all. A part of him had hoped that if pain was inflicted by his own hands then perhaps he wouldn't feel what his other half felt, but his wishful thinking never saw light. Nevertheless, he wanted the hero to suffer. He himself had been a victim of endless torture while the hero got to frolic in the sunlight.

With his free hand, he grabbed his trusty sword from its sheath. His counterpart saw this and immediately reacted. His nails dug into the finger-less gloves, his body trying to push the dark Link back, but his body was far too weak and instead the man easily pushed him down to the ground, right beside Ilia's lifeless husk.

A mere flick of the wrist and Link screamed, his voice choking, shaking at the octave he reached as the blade dug into his flesh. Yes, he'd been stabbed and shot at with an assortment of weaponry, but this was different. This blade… was different. Its very touch burned his skin, smoke rising above them from where the blade ground into his gut.

Dark Link grinned broadly, enjoying the screams that struck the clearing thanks to his handiwork. He hadn't expected his sword to react to such mortal purity. Even now, he could see Link's skin bubbling, graying while he only felt a tickle. Fascinating, perhaps their link wasn't as strong as he had presumed? Did that mean that if he had struck Link with his own Master Sword-one of which he would not be able to wield due to its lightness-or a normal blade that was not tarnished by sin… then it wouldn't hurt him as much?

Just to humor himself, he pushed the sword down further but still kept his hold on Link's throat. The tickling sensation that had enveloped his body, an identical spot to where he had his sword standing from Link's body, abruptly evolved into something like a hot iron piercing through him. Oh, but it was easily ignored. Such a feeling was nothing compared to when he had come into contact with Lanayru.

He pushed the blade deeper and deeper, even when that buzz of pain escalated, even when he felt his own skin bubble from the sudden pressure of agony. He dug that blackened sword until the tip dug through the back's flesh and touched earth. "You have no idea how I've wanted to do this to you. I've waited centuries, since that time in the Water Temple. Of course, you wouldn't know of such a thing. It was another lifetime for you and another dimensional time of Hyrule." Dark Link giggled as he stared back into those blue eyes. "But as much fun as this is for me, I sadly can't continue. It would be my pleasure to bathe in your blood, _Link_." He crawled onto Link, straddling his torso before leaning in so that his face was a mere inches from the hero, "I have a whole village here to ruin."

As he spoke, he pulled the sword out roughly, angling it so that it damaged even more skin, but all the while he kept its touch from any vital organs. He'd committed enough murders with a sword to recognize when the blade was too close to a pair of lungs.

The hero in turn cried out, his hands forgetting to pull off that wretched hand that still gripped his neck for they, instead, reached for the gaping hole that lingered just above his right lung. His own skin felt cold to the touch, but the blood that oozed in-between his fingers was hot, hotter than Ilia's own blood.

Link didn't register when his dark counterpart freed him completely, even when he turned on his side in the dirt to wallow in pain. Yet when his teary eyes searched for that _malicious _smile, he finally caught those words. "V-Village…" He cringed, his hand pressing against his wound desperately.

"Why yes, of course. How else do you expect me to get my anger out, to express myself?" The dark man mused. How else would he get the spirit, Ordona, angry? What other tactic was there to be noticed by the goddesses and their light spirits besides mindless murder?

He turned away from the wallowing man, clicking his tongue, "Here little abomination, here little abomination. Time to play." This time, unlike the moment they shared at the spring, Colin came without difficulty from behind the trees. "Come, let's have some-" dark Link paused, his gaze snapping down to the hand that gripped his bloodied boot, just above the ankle.

"I won't l-let you." Came the voice from beneath him, but he simply laughed. The hero was such a nuisance, honestly.

Without a word he turned on his heel, the hero's hand slipping on the leather boot but still holding on strong, and lifted his boot that was free of any grubby hands. Down it went, crushing bone.

* * *

Talo paused, his eyes taking in the village he had once called _home_. His gaze wandered over the short houses with their identical thatched roofs, catching the way the soft colors of their facades had begun to fade away with time. He gave it no heed, but his eyes did lift to the once vibrant, azure skies above, only to look upon the mundane color of gray. Even the grass beneath his boots had a degraded look to it-the greens were not lively but dried and dead- it was as if the village had grown old, lifeless. Then again, perhaps it had. The village had never been the same after the _Fall of Twilight_, when the world had been shrouded by a wicked darkness. It was the loss of innocence, Talo surmised.

Back then, the village had clung to peace, but when the Twilight came… everything had come undone. There was so much death and destruction. Beth- a childhood friend who had been kidnapped along with him by the monstrosities that created the darkness- came home to death. She'd found them in the living room with swords shoved deep into their hearts. Her mother had committed suicide, claiming that Beth was her only reason to live, and her father followed suit because he was afraid to bear the world alone. Even he and his brother had returned to a different house. His mother had fallen ill and passed on right when she witnessed the faces of her two beloved sons returning after a year's absence.

It was almost as if the village itself had died, the Twilight having sucked the life-the soul-out of it long ago. There was no happiness, no sun, and no life. There was only gray, a lingering smoke that suffocated any hope of change. Here, only the dead found the happiness and the sun.

It took a year for the once happy, lively village to fall to ruin, but it had taken close to five agonizing years for even a whisper of laughter to be heard.

Yet when Talo continued to gaze upon the desolation, he found the splash of color that stood out from the monotony. At first, he hadn't paid them any attention, but now he saw them. A burning yellow, a color that even made the sun jealous, that took the shape of a prairie flower was scattered around on the ground like a disease. Despite the lack of sun and dried earth, the flowers stood tall and vibrant like beacons of hope. They blossomed like a rose and shimmered underneath the barren sky. They were small flowers, perhaps the size of an infant's palm, but when he gave them notice they stood out like a light flickering within the darkness.

He turned his gaze away from the cold world about him and instead took interest in his own gaze that looked back at him through the smooth, reflective surface of his helmet. His gloved fingers held it tightly within his hands as if the helmet itself kept him from dwelling too much into the past, as if it was his sliver of sanity, but even his eyes had changed. Just like the village, he too had changed. Within a year, he had grown up from a boy to a man. Within a year, he had seen death, felt loss, and had his first kill. He didn't even look like _him_ anymore. His eyes were too cold, too lost in the "could have been"s and his face was too tanned by the twisted world about him.

"Hey mister!" He blinked, his mind gladly focusing on the voice of innocence that called to him. He looked down into an ocean of turquoise, a mop of gold, and a smile of color that shown more than just that of yellow.

The child grinned, showing off a mouth full of awkwardly angled teeth, but the smile was beautiful nonetheless. Just a simple gesture brought a smile on his own lips. "Are you a soldier?" The little girl's eyes widened at the question, her body bouncing with pure elation at the very idea of meeting a Hyrulean soldier. At her constant movement, her over-sized shirt followed along with each bounce, meeting her halfway before flopping back down to grasp at her knees. "Is it hard being a soldier? I've always wanted to be one, but big brother says I can't 'cause I'm a girl. Do you have to wear armor all day, even when you sleep? Do you have a pony?" With each question, she bounced faster and higher and her lisp that he hadn't quite heard became more dominant now as her speech quickened.

"Pergie, dear, don't run the poor man off with your endless curiosity." The child's bouncing slowed somewhat, but it never stopped. However, she did draw her attention to the speaker, a woman who looked at him with eyes of iridescent blue. Her hair was a fiery mass of cascading red, falling past her shoulder blade in fine, single ringlets. A curtain of red fell into her gaze, but she brushed it away with a hand as she said, "I'm sorry, she isn't used to seeing visitors and-" the woman paused, her pale hand hovering over her child's head as her face froze. It was not from fear but shock that caused the words to slip away from her mouth, unheard and entirely forgotten. "You're-you're alive?" Her voice fell an octave, dripping to a whisper as her hand withdrew from her daughter's head, "But I-we-I thought you were." At her words, her freckled face crumbled and broke, tears spilling forth from the splintering cracks.

The emotion erupted like water bursting from a dam, shattering her whispers with a trembling cry that roused him from his silence. He moved then, dropping the helmet to the ground, only to embrace her, his arms pulling her into his plated chest. In that moment he wished he hadn't worn his usual garb of a soldier because this woman with the crimson hair that shook against him was someone he had missed for the past seven years. He missed her touch, missed her smile, and he most of all, he had missed her laugh and the way her hair glowed underneath the brightest of suns.

Her fingers curled at his shoulders, her forehead pressed against the crook of his neck. He held her close as if his life depended on it, his fingers tangling in her soft, red hair as he coaxed her tears with quiet years of his life had been wasted, lived on without her by his side. It had been so long that he had forgotten of her beauty and her entire existence and for that he felt ashamed and unworthy. The Hyrulean army had taken so much from him, time and love, that he hadn't had the time or the desire to return to what he had deemed as a shell of a past life.

"I thought you were dead." Her tearful voice lingered like a ghost, feeling him with dread. He was so utterly despicable, was he not? He was just like Link...

Her hands tightened into fists as she beat against his breastplate, "I missed you… so much, but you left without a word and I-I didn't want to think the worst-" her words were enveloped by the wails that leaked from her mouth, tears streaming down her face only to splash against his armor.

His fingers brushed through her hair, hands drawing to the sides of her face. He pulled her back, her beating at his chest pausing for the moment as she instead took to curling her fingers back around his covered shoulders, so that he could see what he had left for those exhausting years. He wanted to see what he had missed, and when her eyes met his, he felt a wicked guilt tighten about his heart. "Beth, I'm so sorry." His voice matched hers, tears threatening to spill, "I'm so sorry."

There had been a time when they had been together, as lovers, and he found himself missing such a time. They shared common ground, a house, and a bed. As time crawled on they even shared a child, a daughter they named after his deceased mother, yet he left it all behind for the sake of "duty" and the desire to find the man he deemed to be his hero, just like the rest of Hyrule. His precious daughter didn't even remember him now; she only watched in silence, confusion blurring over her previous excitement. Yet when she uttered that one, single word, he couldn't help but drown in that regret, "Daddy?"

How foolish, how childish, to turn his back on something so precious. Even if she had been willing to see him walk away, smiling for him so that he wouldn't dare change his mind, he had still been foolish.

Talo rested his forehead against hers as he continued to repeat the apology relentlessly, desperately. This village had changed and it had changed him, but his only meaning for existence still lingered, here, in the sterility within the endless sea of flowers.

* * *

The soldier shifted within his old clothes, cloth that smelled of cedar wood, of storage. It made his flesh itch, the skin too accustomed to the weight and feel of his usual military garb. Nevertheless, he felt secure despite the encasement of metal because now he could bring Beth closer to him. He could finally feel her without the armor getting in the way. He could finally touch her cheek with his bare hand.

They had stood within the mass of flowers, crying and apologizing for what had felt like eternity. If it wasn't for the little youth's demand to answer her question on if he was her father or not, they would've stood within the flowers until time itself stopped.

Now he sat at the table that was much too big for his muscular structure and watched the back of his wife as she frantically tried to prepare dinner. He would've offered help, but he lacked the confidence when it came to the kitchen and he lacked the drive to be near her, to actually touch her… he wanted to, desperately, kiss her and hold her, but his regret kept him at bay. Even if his attire was more comfortable for such romantic antics, his guilty conscience pushed him back.

"So… Pergie…" he tried weakly, searching for a worthy topic. Silence wasn't something he dealt with well.

"She's missed you." Beth replied abruptly, expecting the direction of his words. She only gave him a bit of a glance over her shoulder, hands wiping at her skirt, "She's always been going on about how she'll become a soldier just so she can find you and help you come back home safely."

His laugh was weak, short lived. "Admirable. How old is she now… three?"

She gave a curt nod, fingers rubbing the seasonings into the three identical Ordonian fish. Ever since their tearful meeting, she'd remained standoffish. Then again, he didn't blame her. He hadn't written her once and he hadn't returned until now… "And you, how-" he paused suddenly, his eyes drifting down to the big, blue eyes and the short, little fingers that tangled into his sleeve. He hadn't heard her come in from her room, but the distraction was more than welcome. "Pergie." He tasted the smile before it shown on his lips.

The child only grinned, her jagged teeth poking out once more at the wild smile, and bounced up at his recognition. "Daddy, did you save the world?" He blinked at that, his gaze shifting between his wife and the shimmering eyes of sky. "Did you meet the hero? Did you get to ride a pony? Did you use a sword, o_ooooo_h, a bow?" With each question, she bounced up and down and all the while her over-sized shirt jumped along with her.

This time, his laughter was real and lively. It reverberated within the small kitchen like music. At its sound, Pergie let loose a brilliant, blinding smile and the laughter that fell from her mouth matched his own. "Let's see," his big hands cupped her sides and he pulled her up into his lap. He'd never realized it, but just by picking up his daughter, he felt endlessly happy. Despite the sorrow of not being able to be there for her for three years, picking her up in his arms now was sensational, wonderful. Even hearing her laughter as he picked her up, high, made his regret fade away.

"I missed you, daddy!" Pergie circled her thin arms around his neck, squeezing with all her might. "Missed you." She nuzzled her fuzzy, blond head against his neck, "Momma missed you too!" At the bold statement that came from the young girl's mouth, both adults froze and stiffened. Talo looked down at his daughter's giggling face, and his heart squeezed in guilt. He couldn't bring himself to look behind him to where Beth was silently standing, the pot on her stove threatening to boil over from neglect.

"I'm…" He couldn't bring himself to say the words that he wanted to the most. There was no excuse for the time lost, there was no way that what he could say next would make this better. What could he do? What could he say?

"Yes… I did." He heard the quiet murmur from behind him, and finally he dared to glance in his wife's direction. She stood there, staring at him, her arm that held her cooking spoon shaking, and her legs spread to brace herself. They stared at each other, and again tears formed in her beautiful eyes, and he watched with tears of his own, and her tears fell like sparkling diamonds to the floor. He sat Pergie on the bench at his side and stood immediately. Without an ounce of hesitation, without regret, he made his way to her, wrapping his large, tanned arms around her and pulling her close. She felt warm and soft against him, she felt like home… he'd missed that feeling. At his touch, she collapsed in his hold as if her life depended on his strength, her body trembling and her voice breaking.

"Oh, Beth… Beth, I missed you so… s-so much." He kissed her temple as she continued to break beautifully in his grasp. Their child sat with a watchful gaze, eyes widening for a moment in youthful confusion at the scene that settled before her for the second time today. Even though she was only a toddler, she knew this was a special moment.

Yet when the tears and the sweet words did not dwindle, and when an opening for her did not come, her childish attention wandered to the kitchen's small windows. There she spotted her friends, innocents that frolicked within the waves of yellow that danced in the wind. Even from within the house she could hear their laughter and playful screams. Curiosity of the events before her all but gone, she only gave her beloved mother and new-found father- a man she had only believed existed in her dreams-a glance, catching them sharing a kiss, before she wandered silently to the door. As she slipped out into the outside world, the pot behind them finally boiled over.

However, she'd decided to venture out at a rather troubling time. For as she bounded into the village's heart to join her playmates, the laughter and bubbling happiness vanished. A wicked pressure pushed at her, making her stop by a younger boy by the name of Dillie who looked on along with the others at an oncoming darkness. She watched the boy for a moment, tilting her head, but when she finally looked in the direction that the boy's eyes stayed, her heart shuddered somewhat. The darkness was intriguing.

* * *

He walked into a field of burning yellow. Its very color blinding him, making a dry grimace peel its way across his face, as his reddened gaze moved to the small, leaning huts that encircled the field. Compared to the flowers that budded up from the earth, the huts themselves looked colorless, soulless. In fact, it all looked gray and dreary. The browns were muddied, the greens dried, and the very gloom that caked his surroundings made his own self waver in his usual tendencies. It made him feel something akin to sorrow. Of course, he mentally giggled, it wouldn't look that unappealing with a dash of red... It would definitely please his tired eyes to see that accursed yellow tarnished and drowned in a sea of crimson.

As he stood at the village's main entrance, boots digging into the dirt path, he caught sight of laughing children and smiling faces. Yet when he felt the presence of his dead cohort trailing behind him, worn boots grazing the path with an awkward stride, he saw those laughs and smiles freeze and falter. The brightness, the color, died then as Colin limped to his side, fingers jerking at the thin air.

The closest children stared, their faces breaking into identical looks of utter fear. It trickled over them slowly, eyes widening just as slow as their trembling intake of breath. At their fear, Link couldn't help but grin. Such an emotion was a beautiful contrast to the grotesque yellow that dotted the grass around them. "What, have you never seen a dead body before?" He giggled, dramatically pointing to the groaning, rotting boy that wavered at his side. At the directed attention, Colin gurgled an acknowledgement, and at that very sound, the crushing silence of the laughter and the smiles broke into chaos.

Children screamed, cried, as they ran from the horrible sight that was Colin. The older individuals in turn, ran as well, and they seemed to cry even harder, out running the children as they fled.

He mocked hurt as his white hands slinked up to his blade, but his fingers didn't curl about the blackened, jeweled hilt right away. This reaction from the Ordonians alone was honestly upsetting. The Zoras, even the denizens of the deceased Kakariko, had offered up more of a challenge. Albeit, in the long run, it didn't really matter. Prey was prey, blood was blood, and dead was dead. Either way, Ordona would awaken with their foolish deaths. Besides it did make it all the more fun to chase rather than allowing the prey to come on its own terms.

Nevertheless, he still kept in mind that he had his counterpart wallowing in the clearing, probably crawling his way to the village by now. This unforgivable yet pleasurable deed of homicide would have to be acted out quickly.

"Make use of yourself." He spoke darkly, giving the Redead a mere glance as he finally freed the inverted sword from its confinement. The blade itself glistened, easily reflecting his gaze as he turned to the closest hut.

Yet his stride paused, his attention flickering to one child in particular that had not fled from the sight of the decomposing boy. No, the child only gawked in the middle of the putrid, hopeful sea of yellow. She remained there, as still as a statue, and her hair's radiance was becoming rather unnerving for it, too, burned in a golden halo, and with hope. What's more, she looked unphased. There was no hint, no blemish of fear splattered across her small, rounded face. Instead, she looked remorseful.

"Is your friend all right, mister?" She gave an innocent tilt to her head, eyes of baby blue looking into his pools of red with unnatural ease. It made him flinch, made his fingers curl about the hilt of his sword tighter, because when she looked to him… when she _noticed _him, his heart clenched. However, he shrugged it off. Such feelings were useless, pathetic, and misplaced. She only cared for the boy.

Yet when she tilted her blond head to the other side, he found his thoughts slipping. Her innocence was so pure, so fragile… so… so… adora-

_How degrading._

He moved toward her, his snowy smile nonexistent as he drew closer. All the while, she stared. All the while, her whole body beamed with youth, with good and innocence. Even when he stopped in front of her, blade rising to graze her skinny neck, did she stare.

"Daddy... " her voice, something like a cold, whispering breeze, snapped, cracked, and shattered with the swing of the blade. Blood erupted from her opened mouth, pooled from her neck, and then the blade swept through bone. Only then did fear make its mark upon her face, just when her wide eyes started to roll back into the darkness of her eye sockets. Just when her head slipped from its place atop her neck, did her vocal cords spasm, did her mouth drop to a silent scream.

The yellow was red.

* * *

**Well would you look at that! Wolfs did a touch of romance and then squashed it... then she did it again... and made it falter with a child's death! _Yay_ for cliffhangers, aye?**

**R&amp;R. Tell me what you liked, hated, thought was okay, and think can be improved.**


	15. Chapter 15

**So I'm breaking the possible monotony of this story... and am attempting to bring on the feels (let's just hope I can do it right, can give enough detail).**

**Thanks to my Beta Reader, Nothin'Fancy! This chapter wouldn't be up if it wasn't for her~**

_**R&amp;R, positive and negative feedback is cherished.**_

* * *

**Chapter 15 - Endure**

" _It's like you're screaming… and no one can hear… "_

**Music Suggestion: Take It All by Ruelle**

* * *

His nails dug into the earth, blood pooling underneath him, as he dragged with all of his might. The useless limb, his broken leg, trailed after him, weighing him down. If it wasn't for the desperation that licked at his nerves, he would've wallowed in his agony and self-pity in the clearing, by the husk of a friend. If it wasn't for the words that fell from his lookalike's lips, he would've gladly accepted the idea of defeat, even death. After all, he had already lost everything. What more was there?

_Heroes never die. They endure. _It came as a gallant whisper, trickling from his conscience. It was a saying he had held onto since the Twilight Years because at that time he had needed a chant that urged him onward, that gave him some type of courage. Even now, ten years later, it still worked for with each repetitive breath the chant came. Each word evolved, becoming louder and more ferocious, demanding, than the last until the saying itself was nothing but a scream.

Yes, he had lost so much already, but truth be told… Ordon was his heart. The people of Ordon were his only family, people he could trust and depend on, and the thought of that being ripped away from him pulled him out of his personal darkness, if only for the moment. He needed to at least save this-his home, his origins-from being destroyed.

_Heroes never-_

But the chant ceased, cut off from his mind like a cut off from oxygen. His elbows dug into dirt and his head dropped, forehead meeting icecold ground as a chilling, twisted wind reached his pointed ears. It came softly, grazing his senses, but then it ascended with a fortissimo that assaulted that newfound courage. The screams that came from the village-his village-blanketed him with a heavy sickness, suffocating him with its heat, with its pressure. _He _was already hacking away at the remaining pieces of Link's weakened soul.

_How much more can a "hero" endure? _He curled inwardly at his doubt, eyes clenching against another flood of tears. Where had his courage gone, why did he have to rely on pretty words, why did he have to rely on the hope and love of the people? A hero was a hero, not a perfect being, but a hero. Albeit, how could he survive with his sole existence alone? This world was unkind, unfair, and could easily twist against him.

_But they endure, they walk the path that no man dares to tread. They bear the weight, the burden, of the broken, the damned, the weak… this world. They endure. _He kept at it, fueling his pressing worries with _pretty _motivation. It was a last ditch effort to encourage himself to move, to crawl with all his might.

After all, if not him, then who else?

He pulled, teeth grinding at the biting pain that rippled at his chest and pierced his leg. Each movement took his breath away, but each scream drew him closer. This time, his fingers curled with meaning, cuticles becoming filthy once more as they cracked and bled against thick earth. His good leg, the knee was bleeding and burning with each slide, but the worry of his being was absent. Instead he carried on as if his pains were something natural, even plastered a grin on his face for effort at the idea to "grin and bear it."

Yet that grin and that adage fell short. His body dragged around the path's bend, the destruction coming into view, and with it came the stench of something wickedly foul. It pushed its way down his nostrils, choking him and corroding his senses. It even lingered, clinging to his nose, his mouth, and even his eyes. It coiled around him, silencing all breath, and at once he looked away, closing his eyes against the gore but even an aversion of the eyes could not wipe the sight, could not suffocate that putrid smell.

The village looked dreary, but with the macabre that splattered and meshed with the gray, it looked just as Illia did, dead. There was no brightness, just red, and the very sight of it had burned into his eyes even though he had only looked upon it with a glance. He would've continued to look away with closed eyes and wavering breath, the stench much too strong for his nose, but the screams forced him back to attention and he unwillingly turned back to the scene to find bloodied flowers and fallen children.

Blue eyes roamed, disbelief coating his features. His dark self had only been absent for a mere minute and yet that man-that monster-had already created such horrors. Even from his place on the ground he could catch the water wheel across from him, its waters red just like the pond in Kakariko. Bodies were scattered about like trash, faces strewn in identical fear, and their innards dangled from their bodies like decorations, like mocking flowers. Then he saw the innocent, blonde of a head with turquoise eyes, just the head, and those eyes stared at him. Fresh blood still dripped from its nose, still leaked from its neck, and the eyes still moved. The pupils flickered amidst the gore, but when they found his sapphires did they stare and droop, the colors of life fading fast. He had to look away from it for fear of vomiting or losing himself, and instead he searched the scene for his dark half.

The monster wasn't hard to find and he wasn't quite far either. Link catching him just in time as he drove his sword through a man's gut. That villager's gut blossomed outward, birthing the sword in a flurry of blood before it then withdrew, leaving him to fall onto saturated earth. If the villager had screamed, Link had not heard it, but he did hear his own stuttering heart as recognition hit him hard.

_Rusl… _A friend, his former teacher of swordsmanship, and the father to Colin now dead. Dead, just like the rest.

He would have drowned in that fresh poison, of the misplaced guilt and boiling fear that clawed at his determination if it were not for the cry that pulled him away from the sight. His eyes shifted, catching another familiar face clutching that head with the slowly active eyes.

* * *

Talo had heard it, a noise that brought his whole world to its knees. It was a chorus of screams that ended what could have been an unforgettable moment, and in their wake did Beth pull away from their progressive kiss, her eyes shifting once to the door and then to his own. "Pergie." Those two syllables turned his stomach into knots as her hold on his shoulders slackened, as her blissful, smooth features crumbled into something akin to dread. It washed over like the tears had.

The screams intensified, reaching such sound that it had begun to mesh with his thoughts. Then he heard it, somehow over the obnoxious voices, the sound of a blade slicing through meat. It was a sound that his ears were attuned to, but no amount of experience kept his surprise at bay when the sunlight from outside turned blood red.

Beth gasped at his side, nails digging into the thin cloth at his shoulders as her gaze snapped to the window that dripped red. "Oh Din." Her whisper was short, strangled and it took all she had to not fall to the floor because the paranoia was ripping at her insides, gnawing away at her motherly instinct. "Talo, Pergie." Her voice cracked, much as did when she had seen him as if for the first time moments ago, and she forced her eyes to meet his once more. Her eyes were wide with fright, drawn out as far as they could upon her tanned face, and they glistened with a pleading sense.

_Pergie's out there… is everything okay? Talo? _Unlike her voice that could barely muster over her worry, her eyes spoke freely, continuously.

It took all he had to shove his desires down deep within his throat, to burn them along with his emotions that were not befit of a soldier. He wanted to hold her, shield her away from the screams that were no longer background noise, but the worry was an incessant stab and her desperation did little to lessen that worry. He also didn't want to be a hero, to see what was happening beyond the safety of the door. He didn't want to witness whatever it was that was causing such audible turmoil.

But with a forced exhale he reached for her hands, holding them for a silent moment to kiss her knuckles before gently setting them at her sides. With a soft, parting brush of a hand to her cheek, "Don't go outside until I come back." He turned his back to her, his face losing its peace as he was forced to pass by the blood covered windows.

It took all he had to grab the wooden door handle and it took even more of himself to open that door and leave her for a second time.

Quickly, he closed the door at his back, and right at its close did his soldier facade vanish. It withdrew in a grimace, in a twist of the lips and a squint of the eyes as he was met with carnage. His nose curled almost inwardly, his jaw set firm as the overbearing scent of blood washed over him. It, the smell, was so thick and so hot… he had to cup a hand over his mouth to silence the urge to empty his stomach. All around, the yellow flowers were either saturated with vibrant red or covered with death. The bodies were scattered, bits and pieces thrown askew, but he looked past it. Hyrule's army had trained him to ignore the grotesque sights of death, of the downside of a battle, but his knowledge did little to settle his nerves as his eyes roamed the earth for _her_, for the child that he had left behind, once.

Then he saw the only color of yellow that was untouched and his heart nearly skipped a beat. Yet he shook his head, slowly at first. Impossible. He'd gotten to reunite with his daughter and throughout his absence, she still accepted and loved him. She even _called _him _daddy_. Impossible. Years of experience would never be able to prepare him for this moment, for those agonizingly fearful emotions that nudged at his sanity.

Talo wasn't quite sure when he started running. He jumped over the dead, slipped on the entrails, and trampled the tilting flowers. He even passed fleeing villagers, people that _should _be his priority, but he had decided, right when she called him "daddy," that she and Beth were his top priority. Screw Hyrule.

He fell to the earth, crumpling down next to a headless body. His boots had cut off from their pace so abruptly that his knees skid, holes ripping in the thin material, but his senses were more concerned about the cold blood that stuck to his legs like glue, keeping him there as his eyes wavered. Tanned hands immediately grabbed thin shoulders, the body leaning back at an awkward angle, the nub of a neck still dripping with blood. His fingers tightened on those bony shoulders to the point where the blades on the back of the carcass cracked under the pressure, but he didn't notice. His thoughts were too focused on the sick realization that seeped over him like a cold.

Where was her head? If he put the head back… red potion… maybe? Nayru, no, but… the spring, maybe? Ordona? Din!

He swore under his breath as hot tears stung his cheeks. Perhaps he was going mad. Yes, he was definitely seeing things. He was dreaming and any minute now Beth would wake him up, tell him supper was ready, and then he would see his daughter come waltzing in, smile and all. Yet reality, as always, was cruel and unforgiving. It pulled his unwilling gaze to the soiled ground beneath him and only then, when the tears started to obscure his vision of the vibrant colors of gore, did he catch sight of that mop of gold again, the only yellow that remained in a field of husks, and his world came crashing down.

Tossing the body to the side, he took to scrambling for that head that sat not but a few feet away, and when his fingers tangled into those golden locks, he felt a scream free itself from his throat. Such a sound, a lonesome howl that made the very trees of Ordon shudder, sung over the gore. It crackled with sorrow, split at the ends with momentary insanity, and it encased his senses with a sort of graveness that only pulled at him further. It was a cry of disbelief, a cry of loss, and the cry of a father.

Fingers shook as his hands swept further until they met her jawbone and he picked her up, carefully as if her head alone was a precious jewel. Perhaps it was because even in the dreary village, even in the splatter of violence, Pergie's golden hair shimmered with life, sparkling like a jewel.

He held her head close to his chest, ignoring the feel of severed flesh and bone at his fingertips as well as the thick, slimy blood that seeped down his arms. His scream never ceased and the tears never stopped. Even the words, useless apologies mumbled into yellow hair, that incoherently spewed from his mouth never seemed to falter, even through the incessant screams and the endless tears.

_How am I going to tell Beth?_

His heart did skip a beat as his mind became consumed by Beth's desperate eyes, broken face, and tearful lips. How was he going to tell her?

Talo lifted his gaze from that youthful hair and looked to her house, but his eyes never met those familiar but aged walls of graying brown. Instead, they faltered and turned to something that drew a shudder from his bones. His eyes met a scene, a black sword blossoming from a chest of a good, old friend, and a twisted figure that looked too much like someone he had idolized as a child.

_Link did this. _His sniffling gaze narrowed, his mind conjuring up every strand of blame and hatred possible. Yes, it wasn't _the _Link, but it was that counterpart of him. Either way, Link was here and was wreaking havoc on _his _village, on his _family_.

_I'll fucking kill him. I'll slice his head off! _At his vengeful thoughts, he placed his daughter's head gently on the ground and stood with a staggering awkwardness that betrayed his rage. He looked away only for the breath of a second as the dark Link withdrew that disgusting blade. Eyes downcast, lingering in the blood and bodies by him, he roved over every detail of the carcasses until he found what would end this. A blade, a short rapier that was decorated with the Ordonian crest and the color of metallic silver, caught his gaze. It was clutched tightly within the hand of a young woman that was perhaps his age, but her face held no familiarity.

Without a thought to his own life, without a thought to how his wife would be told that both her daughter and husband were dead-he would likely be killed by that black sword-he made a mad dash for that rapier. He crouched down quickly, jerking it from the corpse's fingers. The soulless fingers gave a crack, taut muscles and bones being ripped from their silent place as the blade was freed from death's grip.

Then he ran with that rapier held high, his face warped with anger and sorrow and fear. He cried out only when he was a jump away from that foul murderer, the dark man too infatuated with the newly fresh kill to pay attention.

Somehow, his doubt told him that this man was a ghost. An apparition that would be unharmed, the blade going straight through, but when his wrist was splashed with a hot red and a gurgling cry-something close to a growl-erupted from white lips, he found the evildoer to be just as suspected… a grotesque man. That assurance alone drove him to dig that rapier within the man's back by the shoulder blade, feeling it knock against bone only to become stuck within the ribcage and nerves of the spine. They fell forward, the dark man touching tainted ground while Talo fell on top of him. Yet he still pushed and he even jerked it back only to plunge it in again, hoping that the blade would pierce straight through the bastard and pin him down until the crows and Keese had their way with him because he himself didn't have the strength for a clean decapitation-or the the stomach for that matter.

The murderer before him staggered, trying to swipe his blade behind him at his attacker, but the movement only drew the blade to dig deeper and at that he cried out. He cursed and raved, threats flooding from his white lips, but all of it fell upon deaf ears.

Yet one sound reached him, forced him to pause as the blade mercilessly dug past a shoulder blade, "T-Talo, no! Stop plea-_gah_." The scream brought him to an abrupt stop, gaze flickering madly for that source that dared interrupt him.

He caught sight of something odd... a tattered hero, a man wrapped in ripped cloth and dripping with blood. It took him a moment for on his perch atop the hero's dark lookalike, he could not register those skye eyes or that golden hair for they had dulled slightly from the day's turmoils and had been tainted from the blood that fell freely from his lips. Sickly white fingers clung desperately to the side of a hut, a shoulder pressing against its facade for support, but even then the man slipped down the side. "S_sss_top." The voice was less audible but he heard it from across the scattered bodies and wilted flowers. His body shook as he slid the rest of the way down, nails digging into the house's wood flesh. It was odd to see such a sight from the hero. Even in their darkest days as soldiers, Talo had seen Link survive a battle with over fifty Dark Nuts and come out without a scratch. In addition, he had never heard such a broken, such a painfully dismal voice come from those vibrant lips. Come to think of it, he'd never seen the hero cry.

Was this really the man he had idolized?

Link clung to the side of the house by his nails, his bottom having touched wet earth. It had

taken a toll on what little energy he had had to even try at climbing up the facade, trying to find a way to stand upright. He may have succeeded in doing so, been able to stay upright on one leg, but when he watched his childhood friend tackle his shadow down… he coughed, blood spraying from his mouth. Somehow, with each strike of that blade, Link felt it as if it were striking him through and through.

_Darkness cannot live without the light, light cannot live without the darkness._

He denied it at first, but when the blade dug deeper into the back of his accursed counterpart, survival urged him to speak out; however, now he regretted it. He'd been used to receiving such wicked, such disappointed looks from his would-be friend, Zelda, but he'd never expected such a stare from a friend such as Talo. The youth looked at him with something akin to hatred. He didn't look relieved to see him, didn't look happy in the slightest.

_They're all ungrateful, aren't they?_

Talo spoke over the dead, his voice hoarse from his screams, from his perch atop what he considered to be the most wicked of evils, "What do you want?" His voice resonated with fire, burning over the field of destruction, past the short distance to Link's helpless position. It made the hero wince, as did the quick shove of the blade at dark Link's shoulders. "You did this, didn't you?" The accusation bit at his sanity, pulled at his trust. Why, why was it that everyone so easily pointed fingers at him, a man who always risked his life for the world he loved so dearly? "You brought this on us all."

_They're all the same. They are all ungr-_No. No, the emotional soldier, the lost father, was simply in denial. He was simply trying to find blame for the death of his daughter, to try and fill the sudden void with violence to the evil that extinguished his daughter's soul. Nevertheless, it still hurt. "I-I didn't." Link's voice came out weak despite the twist of emotions that rumbled within him, despite the mess of thoughts-both foreign and irritable-that frolicked in his head. "But please," his breath was thin, "stop. You're… hurting me."

The young man looked on with disbelief, his brows narrowing in further accusation. "What is wrong with you? Are you siding with this bastard?" As he spoke, he drove the blade in further until its hilt grazed the back's skin. Beneath him, the inverted man withered but a giggling curse strayed from his lips.

"_Of course _he's siding with me, you impudent brat." The voice that lingered from those white lips drew a glare from Talo, but his gaze did not draw away from Link. "He's me, I am him. One in the same." His giggle evolved into a chortle and did not waver even when the blade was withdrawn and re entered into the back of his neck. "If you kill me, then he dies with me. Beautiful irony, isn't it? Kill the dark then the light dies with it, two birds with one stone."

At the rapier's movement, Link squirmed and cried. His body was unaccustomed to such hefty wounds and his sanity was falling into a state of shock because when his hands fought the agony to feel his back, he felt the hotness of blood and opened skin. It didn't make sense.

"Besides, why don't you worry over yourself?" Talo looked down then, catching a wretched smile snaking up his victim's face. The dark Link turned his face to the side, making his twisted smile more visible, his red eyes finally able to meet Talo headon. Those very eyes made the soldier cringe. They were so red, so dark. _He's not human. _"What of that Ilia girl?"

It was a weak attempt, dark Link knew, and he mentally cursed himself for even trying at such a low blow. In reality, he wanted to rip his attacker's vocal chords out and let Colin play jump rope with them. Yet he couldn't, the blade that continually stabbed at him between the shoulders was bringing him down to desperate measures. There was also the wave of pain lacing his body. On normal circumstances, it would not have hurt him _as much_, shadows could suffer longer than a mere human, but it was his Farore damned connection to a pitiful, dirtied soul. Even now, he could feel his own breath starting to struggle, feel his body strain underneath the sudden pressure of agony. Hopefully, his intuition was correct, hopefully this girl meant as much to the youth as she did to Link.

For once he thanked the goddesses for right as those words left his mouth, he caught a twinge of fear on that tanned man. It came with the foul breeze, with the wind that slipped over the village to spread the stench of death up and about, and died with the setting sun. The very sight of recognition made his grin widen all the more. "Her screams sounded so beautiful, like music. Oh, but the way the sword seeped into her body-"

"Shut up!" Dark Link winced at that, feeling the blade find its purpose once more as it drove into an already opened wound. Yet he didn't pause. Even if this killed him, if it killed _them_, it was quite humorous. His intuition was right, as it usually was, and that made it all the more enjoyable. "But I haven't even gotten to the best part, Talo."

At the sound of his name falling from such vile lips, Talo shuddered. It sounded unnatural, ominous when it came from the darker of the two Links. At the very idea of Ilia being dead, he shook his head and drove the rapier in deeper. All the while, he ignored the screams for the hero who still clung to the side of the hut. Surely this man was lying, surely. Hadn't he just been with Ilia not but an hour ago?

"Talo, s-stop! Sto-op!" Link cried out desperately, blood raining down his chin. The very taste was thick and hot, grainy and disgustingly salty. It made him want to vomit once again but his body was much too keen on focusing on the sensation of a blade eating away at his back and scraping away at his bones. When that bloodied rapier dug into the dark man's back, Link visibly convulsed. His nails dug deep into the wood, drawing the bark from its place, and his teeth bit down into his tongue until the flow of blood that tainted his lips grew darker.

His _friend _looked up once more and still the presence of unbridled hatred lingered in wet eyes. His brows were taught and his jawline was defined in such a way that it looked as if his jaw would pop from pressure at any moment. "Is he speaking the truth?" It was low and cold, barely surfacing above Link's cries, but the hero heard it nonetheless.

Link nodded and the very action tore at his vision. The colors were blurring together, black burning the details that circled around him. Even breath, the breath within him was withdrawing gradually, teasingly. That very action pulled him down. It yanked him from his one hold on the side of the wall, it pulled at his hand that absently dug into a fresh wound, and it pushed him down to the earth.

_Endure. _

His fingers trembled, blood encrusted nails now digging into horrifically saturated dirt. The idea to just give up and stop fighting, stop _enduring_, and let himself drown in his sorrows, in the guilt and the pity and the anger… it was oh so welcoming.

_Heroes endure. _But he was no hero.

Talo pushed away from the man, using the hilt to give him unecessary aid to stand before he took off running once more. He ran past the suffering, dying _hero _and ran past the dirtied head that watched him with drooping eyes, and he ran from the laughter that licked his heels. He ran past his house with the splattered blood on the windows and past the dead and the dying. The soldier never stopped, not even when his boots continued to slip on blood, when the hot substance pulled at his drenched pants, and when he finally made his way to that clearing by the hero's abandoned house.

He only stopped when he saw emerald eyes staring into an eternity of sky, he only stopped when he caught sight of a twisted mouth that was ripped into a quaint smile, and he only stopped when he caught sight of _her _body. Boots skidded into clean earth, kicking up dust, and his body crumpled. His knees buckled, the weight of the world pushing him down to the dirt, and he felt the air leave him all in one breath. An hour ago, he had finally reunited with his best friend and his little family and now, one by one... _he was losing everything_.

Without thought, his shaking hands touched her cheek. A gentle brush of brown bangs left a streak of red to dirty more of her small, round face, and that sight alone forced a cry. It would've drawn a scream but his throat was far too damaged, far too gone for such antics. Even if he had desired to scream to the silent, colorless skies, his mind would not move. It did not think. Talo was too far back, drowning in despair as he looked at death's glistening, green eyes. They were already losing their shine, already glazing over with sickening milk.

This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. It was all a nightmare, yes… all a nightmare. Yet the more he tried to believe in that vain thought, the more the body's blood stank with decay. It was a grotesque smell of spoiled meat that had begun to lift into the air and hang there like a poisonous smog. His eyes burned slightly from its putrid foulness; her rot was worse than the smell from the village's sea of dead. Nevertheless, it did not keep him from picking her up by the shoulders and holding her there, tightly in his arms. He didn't cling to her as helplessly as he had done to his daughter's carcass but he held her nonetheless and rocked back on his heels.

In just one hour he had already lost so much. The army never readied him for this, they never prepared him for the inner turmoil. No, they simply readied him to fight and prepared him to willingly bathe in the blood of the enemy. They did not prepare him to see his child's head severed from her body; they did not prepare him to hold his childhood friend's carcass close to his heart.

He would have rocked on his heels, cradling a useless shell and crying all the while for eternity until he, too, died. Yet his mind finally moved, pulling at fragments.

_Desperation._

There had to be a way to bring someone back from the dead. There had to… fairies, potions… yet his mind replied with silence. There were no fairy springs and no nearby potions. There wasn't even a temple nearby… nothing but a worthless…

The soldier's head snapped up at the mere thought, the tears pausing. "Ordona…" it was far-fetched, impossible. In all history, the spirit had only answered to the heroes of time, but… he had to try. He _had _to _try_.

He stood but pulled Ilia's husk up with him, her head lolling back awkwardly as he rose, and as quickly as he could, he went for the spring. The pace was burdened with a lifeless vessel and so he pulled her along, her bare heels dragging deep into dry ground. Even with his masculine strength, he struggled with her deadweight and struggled with the distance that seemed to stretch on between him and the possibilities-hope. The spring felt so far away.

* * *

A lone light flickered within the darkness, shimmering like a candle light, and its multitude of vibrant colors seemed to stretch on forever in the void that encased it. Its golds were the most vibrant as they lit up the darkness, casting white as far as the eye could see, but its purples, blues, and greens sparkled all the more brightly to make up for lost glory. Its radiance would have been blinding upon mortal eyes yet nothing but the light remained in the emptiness.

It had slumbered for centuries, only having awoken a decade ago, and yet it still moved about the darkened realm with intensity and grace, moving like a tumbleweed in the gloom. There had been a time when it had known of its creation and of its age, of the many lives it had looked upon, but such luxuries had been forgotten for the light had deemed it useless. No, all that it declared as a necessity was a name. Throughout all its ethereal knowledge, it favored the mortal practices of a name. A name gave it life and gave it meaning. Not only that, its name was a gift from its creators-its mothers.

_Ordona._

It drifted through endless time, glistening in sporadic rhythm and it was beautiful what with its wheels of color and evolving lengths of light. It did such things-haunting the dark-until the hero called for it but such a ceremony would not be practiced for another two hundred years… or so it hoped for it and its brothers had not felt a single ounce of darkness since the Fall of Twilight.

It would have continued its mad dance, exploring eternity in all its darkened promises, but abruptly did its lights dim, its rhythm pulsing chaotically with brilliant pulses of light. The light itself was having a heartattack, its beams reaching unimaginable lengths as its colors flashed and made the void become enveloped in white before the black flooded back into its dimension when the colors dimmed. The flickering sway even altered, it was as if someone was blowing against the light. It was as if the light itself were a flame, a threat encroaching it and warning it that it may be extinguished.

Frantically, the light searched the depths of its world. It searched over its being for the cause of the disturbance and when it felt within it, it felt death. Such a thing felt cold and hard, wet and slimy, and it made the light cringe.

How dare someone taint its _waters_, its _sanctuary _with death.

* * *

Ordon's spring sat in its own clearing, separate from the turmoil and bloodshed and from the world beyond. It sat in the cradle of rocks, their intricate runes atop rough facades shimmering in the glorious rays of the sun. The sun itself gave the sparkling waters a vibrancy that put the colors of the earth to shame as it peeked down through thinning canopy of leaves. It gave the spring life. All around it flowers and grass took refuge and the trees grew tall, majestic.

However, when the waters shimmied amidst the earth, when the wet lips of the spring kissed death, the life of the clearing vanished in an instant. The colors of the water dulled, pulling back to the protection of the rocks. Even the sun above pulled back, shrinking away from the blood that encroached such perfection.

Her blood dripped down his arms, mingling with the blood of his daughter, and clouded the pristine purity beneath them. His bloodied fingers slipped on her skin as his boots stepped further into the spring and all the while his eyes watched her reddened essence twist within the water's grasp, moving slowly like tendrils of smoke. Talo even caught sight of the blood's contamination when it spread, engulfing the spring ravenously, unnaturally. He watched it curl and stretch, taking over Ordona's spring like an infection, until the water itself was blood.

Then he felt it, an unimaginable pressure push down upon him like a heavy boulder. It burned at his shoulders, dug into his spine, and forced him to fall to his knees yet he still held on to the dead as if his life depended on it, his nails digging into her wet, thinning flesh. Even then, the pressure pushed, and he found himself leaning over from the exertion.

"_How dare you bring such _filth _into my waters."_

The voice that filtered into his head, a sound that struck him invasively, painfully, and drew him to fall back into the tainted waters. Such a sound scared him and as he fell back did his hands finally let go of the dead meat he had once loved, his fingers instead becoming encased in a hot, sticky spring.

"_How dare you taint me!"_

Talo winced at the voice. Although it was beautiful, it also was devoid of light, as though it were devoid of soul. Dead. Such a voice was the epitome of a void, of nothing and everything all at once. A part of him thirsted to hear that voice, even if it shook with anger, and another part of him retreated back in fear, trembling at the presence.

The runes etched into the rocks trembled with a vibrant light of life-green-and the waters beneath him trembled and splashed, but he had yet to witness the glory of the spirit that resided within it.

"_What is the meaning of this, you foolish boy?"_

His eyes looked to Ilia. Her body was on its side, half of her face obscured by the spring and the other half staring at him with a lifeless eye. The soldier shivered.

"_Answer me."_

Talo blinked then, eyes snapping to a shift of light just above the rocks. A series of lights, something akin to fireflies, had gathered there and were encircling each other in a mad race. "I… Ordona…" his tongue struggled underneath the invisible wall that pushed at him, "Ilia..."

"_Speak!"_

It fell from his mouth like vomit, "Bring her back. Ilia, bring her back!"


	16. Chapter 16

**This chapter will hopefully give you more insight to the characters (excluding Talo), if I did it correctly. _Poetic_**_** one-liners during scenes with Ilia (you'll see what I mean) are lyrics by YouTube user Game4ce (their lyrics for Ilia's theme song from Twilight Princess).**_

_**Guest **_**on chapter 15: Thank you! I'm glad you find my rambling and messed up writing enjoyable, hopefully I won't disappoint you in the future!**

**_JohnathanKonopka _on chapter 1: Good to see you lurking about and even better to know that you find it entertaining (so far, let's hope the enjoyment is continuous)!**

* * *

**Chapter 16 - Green Eyes**

"_My head is haunting me and my heart feels like a ghost."_

**Music Suggestion: **Follow You by Bring Me the Horizon

* * *

The waters shivered; the cloud of multicolored fireflies standing still for the breath of a second and when the youthful soldier found himself reconsidering his words, the series of lights struck him. They ripped the air about him, set the waters into a frenzy, and their very iridescent glow burned his eyes. "_How dare you!" _A chorus of screams pierced his ears, pulled at his senses. It drew him to grovel in the red spring, drew him to convulsions as the lights swept around him and cut off precious air. "_Such a stupid child of the goddesses, how dare you!"_

A ball of glorious light brushed against his hand and in its wake, it left a trail of burnt, rotten flesh. The touch of such purity burned him and he would've screamed from the sudden shock of agony, but the lack of breath only pushed him further down.

"_Such an idea, such a plea, monstrous. Filth." _The voices seeped into his sanity, echoing madly against whatever thoughts his mind could barely conjure. Its magnificence pulled at his soul, clawed at his heart. "_Why should I commit to such a disgusting request!" _

His mind struggled, his consciousness reaching out for a sense of self. With the lack of air, he found the voice resonating with malice, but its words fell on deaf ears. With what little thoughts his brain could cling to, he focused on with all of his might. Ilia had to live, she had to come back, she had to… he'd already lost so much.

"_Why should I commit to such a disgusting request!" _The words came at him again, but this time the frantic dancing lights slowed. A feel of trickling oxygen shoving its way down his throat drew a shudder yet despite the slow pace of the lights that still surrounded him, still blocked out the skies above him, he still covered his ears and face.

"_Speak, you petulant child."_

His body trembled as the chorus of voices became one, but its power over him did not lessen in the least. Nevertheless, he struggled for words. "P-Please…" The word pushed through him in a breath, barely audible, but the glory about him heard it and in turn it flew back from him. Talo wasn't used to the multitude of weaknesses that plagued his body or the fear that had gathered within him yet he looked up from his palms to watch the swarm of lights float back to their perch by the rocks.

The voice laughed melodically, "_The dead remain dead. It is blasphemy to awake them, childish mortal. Such an act is surely a sin- an act against the Goddesses and the value of life itself."_

He didn't give a damn, clearly, but his mouth could no longer form words. The mind was still cloudy, still influenced by the pressure and sound of purity.

"_If I bring the dead back then every mortal will want their dead revived. Such an unholy ideal. Such a request will make the earth beneath you _rot_. Besides, once dead… the soul is fragmented and isn't quite the same." _

Talo managed a pitiful glare as his tongue tangled within his mouth.

"_Wretched child, it simply isn't worth it."_

The soldier wouldn't stand for that. He couldn't and so with a writhing body he managed to stand, burnt hand sizzling briefly when the waters shifted at the gradual movement. With an agonizing respite, he managed in two gasps,"Bring… her back."

"_Why? Is it out of love? How typical, mundane. The dead can't love. They are mindless, immune, broken, lost."_

"D-Don't… care."

"_You really are childish, aren't you? That filth that you dared taint my spring with will not be the same."_

"Bring her… back!"

The series of lights clustered together, melting into each other until they formed one, single ball of blinding light, "_And what if I don't?" _Its holy glow pulsed threateningly, red tints boiling from its beauty as if to display its anger.

At its question, the soldier pondered. His mind grasped at weak, trivial things, but when he glanced down at Ilia's husk beneath him, "I'll kill… L-Link." He huffed the words, his fingers curling into fists. "I'll… cover your spring… in his blood."

"_How dare you."_

"Unless you bring… Ilia back."

"_You stupid mortal. You'll be the death of _us _all."_

"I'll do it."

"_The Goddesses will have no mercy for your pitiful soul."_

* * *

_The girl with the green eyes and the white dress looked on sullenly, her gaze brushing over the desolate man that she had loved since childhood. Hesitance drew her into his abode and worry drew her to reach up to the man's cheek, her soft palm feeling the roughness of a masculine jawline and scarred flesh. His eyes weren't as blue as she remembered and his skin was much tanner and damaged. _

"_Ilia, I'm fine." His voice came out hoarse, but even that had changed… his voice. It wasn't as gentle, wasn't as innocent._

_The girl, Ilia, in turn smiled up at him but such a gesture never reached her eyes. He was far from fine. After their arrival to Ordon Village, after their perilous journey had finally ended, and after the hero had finally returned home and restored Hyrule's former peace… she'd watched the man she had grown to love crumble. She'd never seen him cry until the day they returned and she'd never seen him fall over from pain and exhaustion until now. _

_The hero was damaged._

_She'd requested the aid of an aspiring knight, Talo, to help her treat the wounds both mentally and physically. Yet not even bandages and kind words soothed the goddess's chosen hero. Even now, when she thanked him for his efforts, congratulated him on his success, and spoke positively, she received little to no reaction._

"_Link…" His name filtered into a whisper as if the very word would anger him. Then again, she wouldn't have minded for when his eyes met hers, she found death. Apathy glimmered within the seas of blue and not once did his expression falter from the stoic wall it had become. It made it all the more hard on her. She wanted so desperately to see his smile, to hear his laugh, and to tell him of her heart's desires._

_Impatience had become somewhat of a natural thing for him as did his dreadful apathy, "What?" Ilia winced, still unaccustomed to the harsh tone that he now used._

_She reached for his hand, fingers trembling underneath his dreary gaze, "I-Link…" At her stumbling words he pulled back, leaving her hand to grasp at air. "I…"_

_The words never came._

I love you.

* * *

Ilia waded through an endless pond of thick and unforgiving darkness. Battling the eternal cold that ate at her bones and added an extra beat to her heart, and with each progressive step, she felt herself sinking... yet to where, she didn't quite know. Nevertheless, she treaded forward as carefully as could be and all the while she struggled for reality.

Thoughts evaded her. Emotions ran from her. Humanity shunned her. No, all she could muster was that she was drowning in black and that the only way out of it was to move forward. Despite this, she still sank, but the thought was innate. It did not evolve, it did not falter. There was no recollection of reasons on why she was setting herself up to suffocate, into what could only be deemed as nonexistence, for each step came a dwindling mind. Even now, she couldn't conjure up her name, but the mere detail seemed pointless when compared to moving forward until she could no longer move.

Surely, if she were to look down now and see herself she would scream. The skin was peeling back, bones jutting out and meat swinging to and fro, and all about her decay lingered. Even now, her conscience was slipping. Her body gradually slowing down with each breath that crept up her throat. She was dying and there was no way to fight it.

_Memories of the trees… in our forest, you and me… _

The blackness shuddered slightly, a flickering static of light shifting through her eternity, but it did not phase her.

_Time does fly… say goodbye to those good times, you and me…_

Her breath lingered on the edge, the coldness creeping to her heart like a hand searching within her.

_For those days passed away… what must come is yet to be seen._

Her heart writhed, forcing a hand to clutch at the withering skin that hid the dying organ.

_Call for me, I will appear. Loved one… please be brave._

The heart throbbed, pulsed violently at the touch of the icy hand. It drew her to stumble forward, the coldness enveloping her, and when she fell further into the abyss did the darkness about her shift once more. Then she saw it, a flickering light that filtered through the smog ahead like a beacon. Yet the promise, the possibility of life was so far away that when her thought staggered into recognition… she didn't move. Instead, she clung to her chest and fell farther down… down…

Even when she saw a telltale silhouette and a name and a memory that was uttered from a voice so sweet and so familiar, the desire to live died along with her.

"_Ilia, Hyrule Castle isn't that far away, but I promise, I'll come back safe and sound before you know it."_

Before she succumbed to darkness, she felt a dry, cracked smile snake up her lips at the sudden rush of familiarity. It was like a breath of warmth over her cold flesh for she remembered the scent of hay and the sound of a breathtaking laugh.

_Whenever you return, Link… I'll be waiting for you._

* * *

Eyes of glistening peridot peeled open like a ravenous mouth, lids shivering only once at the sudden glare of light. For a moment, the eyes were unseeing. They looked past the awed soldier, past the magnificence of a colorful light above them, and stared into the unknown. Then the soldier spoke, his voice sounding like the wind, faint and brisk, and it pulled those eyes into reality. The eyes, cracked with vessels and deterioration, blinked once, twice. Focus was slow and the mind progressed even worse.

Then it came, a single thought that brought a figment of life within her. Death... She _should _be dead.

Eyes blinked again and sound came like a tidal wave. Reality shook her by the shoulders, forced her to spit up what little blood had managed to hide within her. A fire crept its way up her abdomen, pooled within the multitude of holes that went straight through meat and boiled. It drew her to convulsions, fingers frantically splashing within the waters for a source of freedom, comfort, _anything_. The agony ripped aggressively, digging into her wounds and pulling at them until the blood flow that had died down not moments before began to run again.

The soldier, Talo, grasped her shoulders in both surprise and wariness as she began to sit up and thrash. Her movements stirred the bloodied waters and shook his frame. Pain was evident when the dead awoke, the spirit had informed him of such, but he hadn't expected it to renew her blood flow. The spring itself was enlarging, drinking up the essence as it filled over the clearing until not even the grass that had resided at the spring's lips were visible. So much red… and yet, through all the thrashing, Ilia did not speak. Her mouth opened wide, eyes screwing shut, but no sound spilled from those fractured, stained lips.

"_Her decay may worsen and the fatal wounds of the past will not heal." _Came the voice of the spirit somewhere above, a gleeful lilt lurking in its tone, "_But no matter what, she will not be able to speak. Her voice is the cost of her life as it was of value, as is her blood."_

* * *

_Silence was unbearable, but nothing could compare to this. Nothing could compare to this emptiness. Ilia clutched her hands to her chest, dread seeping in until the tears threatened to overcome her yet even then, she couldn't cry. Through the weeks of treatment, through the weeks of trying to reciprocate an emotion or expression that would bring her back to the good old days, she'd already cried her last tear. Nevertheless, she found herself crumbling from within. _

_Behind her, Talo shifted from side to side uneasily. He had to be the bearer of bad news and tell her that Ordon's hero had left in the middle of the night, without a word. Now he was waiting for his best friend to speak, but instead all he got was silence. If anything, he had expected anger or tears and not a fit of the trembles and encroaching stillness. _

"_Ill-Illia, come on, let's go back home." He'd reiterated for what felt like the fifth time yet his words fell on deaf ears._

_It wasn't out of childishness, her distress, but of a feeling of loss. Through the short time she had been able to spend with her Link, she'd finally found the courage to confess to him. She'd expected her friend to return and be all smiles and laughter after hearing her words of love and not the soulsucking silence that came in its place. His only response was a cold stare, a look of pure disbelief, disgust, or confusion and nothing more. _

_Yet even now as her heart struggled to curse his name, his very existence, for abandoning her… she couldn't get past what the days of the past had been like. She had loved him. No, she _still _loved him, changed or not._

* * *

It was uncommon for him to hate a man this much. Then again, villains of the past had yet to take away everything that he held dear. Link had once mused that the aftermath of the Twilight Fall was one of the worst stepping stones in his life because once the land was saved… there was nothing left. Although the Twilight had only lingered on the face of Hyrule for a moment, it had taken its toll on his mentality. For many moons he had only conversed with his blade. Zelda had told him it was due to the fear, due to the shock, and that no man should have been thrown into his situation. Yet here he was, being pushed up against another heroic task, but this time he had no aid. There was no Twilian princess to nag him, no friend to encourage him, there was no one except for his malicious counterpart.

Nail splintered underneath wet earth, determination once more taking root within him; however, the closer he got to his dark, fallen half, the weaker his body became and the more fragile his tendencies dark man in turn only managed to sit up, scarlet eyes watching his good side crawl along like a newborn. He would've smiled at the sight of a weakened Link, but the wicked agony that bit at his back only drew a wince.

When the hero managed to close the distance, he collapsed, but his gaze remained on those loathsome eyes of putrid red, "What do you hope to achieve?" Despite the onslaught of evolving pain, the good Link's voice came out steady and vicious. It resounded with a growl, like a guttural breath from a beast, and for a moment the dark man saw a flicker of dark, lustrous blues in the depths of his irises.

"Is it…" Dark Link coughed, blood trickling from his mouth, as he reflexively giggled, "not obvious, dear _Link_?" He managed a simper, his lips forming a rather disturbing length at the very gesture.

Then again, the hero had _everything_ so maybe it wasn't that simple, wasn't that clear. It pulled at dark Link's smile. After all, the hero existed freely while he, a shadow, was nothing but a remnant. A life was a given when it came to those who dwelled in what the goddesses childishly deemed as "purity," a life that was meant to live; his life was an abomination, a mistake that was created from a sinful bastard of the desert.

With a gradual hand, he reached out and tangled his messy hands in his doppelganger's hair and pulled upward. It encouraged a snarl, but the hero didn't fight back. "I want everything that you have; however, I am a body without a soul, without a life, and if I cannot have your everything then I will simply destroy it all, all things that you cherish." The hero looked on, a tremble sifting through him, at the sound of a lifeless voice that reminded him of the man he had once been when everything had been said and done after Twilight.

_Everything? _"I didn't do anything to you." The good of the two Links spat, his spittle splashing against dark Link's cheek.

"Oh really? You left me to die in that temple, _alone_, after I _begged _you to save me, to spare me. Your existence alone is a nuisance! I cannot live if you are alive. I am your shadow and will forever be your shadow until you are needed no more. Hero, you did everything and more… you exist."

"I don't remember ever seeing you in the temples! Besides, destroying everything won't get you your way, whatever that may be."

The dark hero shook his head. That's right, he'd forgotten that this version of Link was not the famous _Hero of Time_, but either way the hatred still stood. All of the damned heroes that he mirrored were the same, every single one of them. They were childish, cocky, and selfish. "Oh-ho, and that's where you're wrong. You see, I'm going to bring Hyrule down to her knees! I will destroy all that is valued by the goddesses and you. All this carnage is merely an omen, an attention getter."

The hero stared, frustration rippling on the show of agony that clung to his features, "That doesn't make sense! What will that get you in the end?"

"It will give me separation from the likes of you; it will get me noticed."

"That's pathetic, I pity you."

Oh, how he wished he could strangle the hero right now. How dare _he _of all people pity him. "Do you have a death wish, he- "

Link pushed himself up further, arms shaking from the very ordeal, "All it will get you in the end is nothing. You're just making yourself out to be the villain, you're letting the goddesses push you around like a puppet. Causing destruction will get you nowhere!"

"Says the hero who has everything. You have friends, family, childhood, mortality, love, and an identity..." the dark man growled out, pushing the heroic Link back down to the ground, "Yet you take it all for granted, don't you? Makes it all the more easier to ruin you and those little things that you hold dear."

Link shifted aggressively to one side, evading the dark one's touch. The mere movement brought on a suffocating pang, but he managed to ignore it with a bite to his lips. To say that he was confused was an understatement. Since when was his life remotely great? He would've countered with such words, but when he managed to twist his head and look up, he caught the sight of a twisted, enlarged smile. White teeth dotted with blood leered down at him, a chuckle seeping out. From the very beginning, he had found his corrupted counterpart's laughter disturbing and baffling. The constant smiles that bubbled up from that laughter appeared even more malicious and frightening. However, this fit of giggles, as sporadic as it may have been, was understood when he felt a stab to his abdomen.

Immediately, he curled inward, feeling his own blood cake onto his trousers. The very action only pulled the pain up into a crescendo, escalating at an agonizing rate until the pain itself filtered in his gaze and tickled his senses. His dark reflection watched with mirth, hand digging further into an open wound that had gone straight through the bodily flesh. It hurt, but not in the way that it surely hurt the good Link. In fact, the bite of torment felt like a mere tickle now. Perhaps it was the dark matter that had seeped into the good half's entrails when the dark part of the Master Sword dug into pure flesh. If one was corrupted in turmoil, the other was tainted in bliss. If not that then perhaps it was the madness that lurked within dark minds.

When the hero resolved into a crying, begging mess, his own fingers digging into open wounds in an attempt to apply pressure, the dark Link said, "Everything that is yours will burn." He leaned forward, a steady hand grabbing at sun-kissed hair. Again did he jerk the hero's head upward and in response, the hero whimpered aloud, shallow breath catching in his throat, "And everything that is you will be me."

* * *

The spring had fallen into an unsettling hush, even the surface ceased in movement, and it left Talo to drown in solitude. He'd held onto Ilia's writhing body as if it were a lifeline, an anchor to his emotional stability, but the longer she tried to scream only for nothing but silence to come out, he found himself teetering. It was likely the shock or so he told himself. Then again, he wasn't a seasoned warrior from the battlefield. He'd only helped defeat a legion of Dark Nuts and Stalfos before, and that battleground had reminded him of child's play when compared to the tainted flowers and limp carcasses in Ordon. It wasn't every day where he saw his child's head severed from her body and it wasn't a usual occurrence when he threatened a spirit and brought dead back to life. Then again, as his fingers sank into sickly thin skin, he wandered if that could be appropriately assumed. Was Ilia really alive?

He shifted within the spring, trying to find a comfortable position despite holding a flailing girl in cold water. Without a doubt, it didn't help that by the minute, her body was deteriorating. Her skin was drawing back, peeling against oozing muscles and broken bone like a wrapper on a gift; it's as if life was sucking the marrow out of her. Even now, he could feel more and more of her bones as they poked against him, could feel the squishy meat that decayed within her, and the stench that fell from her only grew more horrid. Yet he still found the will to hold on, to comfort her with a tune she'd made for Link when he had returned.

_Memories of the trees… in our forest, you and me… _

She gradually calmed then but her body irregularly convulsed and her nails dug further into his arm, leaving wounds that trickled with red.

_Time does fly… say goodbye to those good times, you and me…_

Her nails scratched, pulling at his skin, as if the very melody that reverberated from his chest was impaling her. The soldier paid no heed, confusing her actions, and continued on while nails clawed and cracked. It drew a sense of dread and desperation through her, that song. It reminded her of something heartbreaking, forlorn. She didn't want to remember.

_For those days passed away… what must come is yet to be seen._

She didn't want to remember his laugh, his smile, or the way his name on her lips drew out the best in her. It hurt worse than the marks that scattered throughout her body, it hurt worse than the dormant heart that struggled for life in her ribs, and it hurt worse than the silent tongue that wiggled angrily in her mouth. Oh, but nothing could compare to that silence. The desire to forget may have been unbearable, but the desire to speak was deafeningly painful.

_Call for me, I will appear. Loved one… please be brave._

She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry, perhaps laugh maniacally.

_Call for me… I will appear._

The storm of emotions shuddered. She wanted to call for him, to see him again, but underneath the blanket of turmoil she could feel the kiss of death lingering. It was hollow and cold, unforgiving, and when she remembered, it was of all the things that were intangible, impossible.

As the dead struggled with a fortissimo of evolving conscience, a makeshift humanity that clung to expiring meat and crumbling bone, eyes of vibrant green lost their glimmer. They struggled, a white milkiness strangling their life until nothing but the glare of demise remained. A mundane, colorless glare that twisted and shook with the lack of humanity.

_Call for me._

Yet she could not.

* * *

**_Why is Ilia decomposing? I mean, she was revived by a spirit and not an expired potion..._ Yes, but a spirit is not a god and its powers are limited. It did warn Talo in its own little way about how the dead will not be the same. I would say more on the matter, but I don't want my interpretations of her humanity and soul and such to influence your ideas :)**

**So I have tried to give you more insight and development into Dark's mind. He's childish (remember, he was isolated at a young age after he was initially created) and so his mentality can sometimes be far-fetched. Poor Link must be so confused when hearing about how he didn't help Dark in a temple, heh... But hopefully this cleared some things up for you!**


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